


Truth or Dare

by Ophelia_Tagloff



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2382332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophelia_Tagloff/pseuds/Ophelia_Tagloff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and OFC are friends until she makes a declaration that shocks him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I only ever have sex with people I don’t find attractive,” I told Tom, tossing back the rest of my beer.

  
“That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard,” he replied, laughing genuinely.

  
Tom and I had met months ago at an opening night party for a play that we were both loosely connected to. He had gone to RADA with the lead actor. The playwright had been in my first writing group. We had begun chatting over Grey Goose and bonded as soon as we had spied the spread of sweet treats together, then spent the evening sampling all of them until we couldn’t eat another bite, teasing one another. _Just try one more. Don’t be a pussy. Come on!_

  
The next morning he had called me to join him at a local bakery for The Best Napoleons You’ve Ever Tasted. Tom always spoke in capitals when he talked about pastries. We met for coffee that day and had been friends since.

  
He sat sprawled out on my sofa, legs and arms taking up more than his half as usual. I had just said goodbye to my last dinner party guest. Tom had stayed to help me tidy up and we had fallen into our usual easy conversation.

  
“You want another beer?” I asked him, getting up. He was on his third.

  
“Damn right.”

  
“Alright. They’re in the kitchen,” I winked at him. “Grab one for me, too. I’m going to get out of this dress.”

  
“But, I’m your guest.” he whined.

  
“No, you’re my beer boy.” I said over my shoulder on the way to my bedroom, “Now get me a beer, boy.”

  
I closed the door and slipped off the dress, opting to put on some soft shorts, a white cotton camisole and red cardigan. I brushed out my hair and returned to the living room.

  
Tom was back on the sofa, a beer in each hand. I leaned over him and plucked the bottle unceremoniously from his fist and curled up on the opposite end of the couch. Tom was staring straight ahead.

  
“Beer’s hitting you pretty hard, Tommy?” I teased.

  
“No, I just realized something.”

  
I took a good sized swig, “Hmmmm?”

  
“Am I attractive?”

  
 _This guy, always fishing for compliments._ “Tom. You’ve got mirrors in your flat. You know you are.”

  
“Dammit. We’re never going to have sex, are we?”

  
I chuckled at him. “Nope, and that’s not even the only reason.”

  
“What’s the other reason?”

  
“I actually like you, Tom. I don’t have sex with people I like, either.”

  
“Wow,” he said, taking a long draught of his beer, “you’re really fucked up, you know that?”

  
“Yes, I’m aware.”

  
He pointed at me with the hand holding the bottle. “You, my dear, are afraid to be happy.”

  
“Fuck off, Hiddleston.”

  
“I’m just saying…” he showed me his palms in defense.

  
“Change the subject. Now.” I said.

  
Tom leaned his head back on the sofa and sighed.

  
“Bored, Tom?”

  
“Yes, let’s do something fun,” he said.

  
“Like what?”

  
“Well, since you’re not going to fuck me. Ever,” he made a dramatic sad face, trying to force tears.

  
“Oh, knock it the fuck off.” I kicked at his thigh.

  
“Let’s play a game,” he smiled.

  
“Poker?” I suggested.

  
“No.”

  
“Monopoly?”

  
“No. I can’t beat you.”

  
“That’s because I am superior at…”

  
Tom waved his hand to hush me then his eyes lit up.

  
“Truth or Dare.”

  
“Really? What are you, twelve?” I quipped sarcastically.

  
“Scared?”

  
“Terrified.” I replied.

  
“Good.” he grinned.

  
He put his arm on the back of the sofa, and shifted his body toward mine. “Ladies first,” he said, setting his beer on the side table.

  
“Truth or Dare, Tom.”

  
“Dare.”

  
I thought for a few moments and then smiled. “Do an impression of me.”  
Tom took less than a minute to scan my body language and then copy it as best as he could considering the considerable distance in our heights. He parted his lips and tilted his chin like mine, and making his voice higher and more quiet said, “You’re my beer boy. Get me a beer, boy.”

  
I clapped and laughed.

  
He continued, “I only have sex with ugly people I don’t like. I’m really fucked up like that.”

  
I walloped him in the stomach with a throw pillow.

  
“Oh shut up, jerk. That’s enough,” I said.

  
“I actually thought it was pretty spot on,” he laughed.

  
“Your turn, you pain in the ass.”

  
“Truth or dare?”

  
“Truth.”

  
“Why the fucked up rules about who you’ll have sex with? I’m curious.”

  
“Tom, I said to drop it,” I warned.

  
“You have to answer. It’s the rules,” he raised his eyebrow and stared me down.

  
“Ugh. Okay. I guess it’s always safer to be the one in the relationship that is settling.” I looked down at my beer, “If there’s someone very attractive physically or otherwise, I won’t try a relationship with them. I’m not pretty enough for anyone really good looking, and if I really like someone’s personality, I could fall in love with them, and that’s a one way ticket to pain.”

  
“That’s really sad,” Tom replied. He looked like he meant it.

  
“Yep, I know. It sucks that that’s the way it is.”

  
“No. I mean, it’s sad that you view things that way.”

  
“It’s alright, really. I know my strengths. I am good at friendship and I am good at sex. As long as they stay separate, I’m golden.” I smiled. “Okay, my turn.”

  
Tom smiled.

  
“Truth or dare,” I said.

  
“Dare.”

  
“Do twenty-five push ups.”

  
“Is that all?’ he smiled.

  
He dropped to the floor and effortlessly rose and fell, counting the push ups as he went.

  
_Holy fuck, that’s hot._

  
He hopped back up to the sofa and raised his eyebrow. “How’d I do?”

  
“I guess that counts, you cocky bastard,” I said.

  
He laughed heartily.

  
“OK, Truth or Dare. Pick Dare. I have a good one.”

  
“You can’t tell me what to pick.”

  
“If I don’t you’ll just keep picking truth the entire time.”

  
_Damn it, he does know me well._

  
“OK. Dare.”

  
“Take off your cardigan.”

  
“Tom, what I’m wearing under it isn’t much of a shirt.”

  
He wiggled his eyebrows and smiled. “Oh. I know.”

  
“Pig,” I retorted and setting my beer down, shrugged the sweater off, tossing it on the coffee table. I willed myself not to cross my arms over my breasts. If I acted embarrassed, he would never let me hear the end of it.   
The camisole was tight and cotton. Although I was wearing a bra with it, the material was thin and my nipples were straining against the fabric.

  
“I hope you’re happy. Now I’m freezing.”

  
Tom’s eyes rested on my erect nipples, his attention caused them to pebble even further.

  
“Yes,” he said, “I can see that.”

  
I stuck my tongue out at him.

  
He tore his gaze away from my chest to my face., “Your turn.”

  
“I can’t think of anything else to ask.”

  
“Alright. I’ll go again. Truth or Dare.”

  
_Into the abyss, I guess._

  
“Dare.”

  
“Sit on my lap.”

  
“Tom…”

  
“You have to do it. It’s the..”

  
I harrumphed and climbed over him, opting to straddle his thighs instead of sitting with my bum on his lap. This way I can kneel instead of sit, I thought.

  
Tom raked his gaze down my body, his brow furrowing and his jaw tightening.

  
He cleared his throat. “You’re not sitting. You’re straddling me.”

  
I lowered myself onto his thighs, my ass on his taut legs. My thighs were spread over his, and these shorts were on the short side. I watched his eyes drift down to my clothed sex.

  
“Eyes up here, buddy.” I said.

  
He smiled and reluctantly brought his eyes up to meet mine.

  
“Have you thought of anything to ask?”

  
“Not yet. You want to play something else?”

  
“Absolutely not. I’m having a great time. Truth or dare.”

  
“Truth.”

  
“How do you feel right now?” he asked.

  
_Aroused. Confused. Worried that I have a visible wet spot on my shorts._

  
“Uncomfortable,” I said.

  
“Why?’”

  
“That’s two questions.”

  
“Alright. Fair enough, Truth or Dare.”

  
“Dare,” I said, trying to avoid that awkward conversation.

  
Tom smiled. “You have to be completely silent for the next ninety seconds. No matter what I do, OK?”

  
“Tom..”

  
“You need to learn to play by the rules. Otherwise the game isn’t fair. Now hush.”

  
I chewed on my lip and put my arms at my side.

  
Tom smiled and his gazed dropped to my thighs. With the slightest pressure of his fingertips, he traced the outside of my legs. He spread his palms over my upper thighs and kneaded them gently, his thumbs brushing up against my pussy, causing me to inhale sharply and suddenly. Tom watched my face intently, his mouth slightly open, his tongue tracing his top teeth. He brought his hands down to my knees, and drew circles on them with his fingers, then slid his hands up the front of my thighs again, repeating the sweet torture. I could feel moisture gathering in my core. My eyelids flickered.

  
“I’ve never known you to be so quiet, darling,” he whispered.

  
I cleared my throat and gave him an exaggerated eye roll, “Well, it’s the rules.”

  
“Truth or …” he began.

  
“My turn,” I interrupted, “truth or dare?”

  
He waggled his eyebrows at me, “Dare.”

  
“Move your hand off my legs.”

  
“Fine,” he replied, crossing his hands over his lap. I glanced down. His erection was undeniable and huge. My jaw went slack and I looked up at his face.

  
Tom bit back a grin as he saw me shift uncomfortably.

  
“Truth or dare,” his voice was an octave lower now, softer too.

  
There was no safe answer. I swallowed. “Truth.”

  
“Why don’t you like me?”

  
“I like you fine, Tom,” I answered abruptly.

  
“I mean..”

  
“That’s two questions again. Now who’s not playing fair?”

  
Tom wouldn’t stop looking at me. No, watching me. His eyes darted from my face down my body, taking in every subtle movement. I suddenly felt very warm. I ran my hand over the side of my neck to my chest nervously, my finger sliding under the strap of my cami. I couldn’t meet his gaze. I felt bare to him. I hugged myself with one arm and felt him shift underneath me.

  
He exhaled audibly.

  
_Time to finish this. This is the moment that will most likely ruin everything._

  
“Tom,” I began, “Truth or dare.”

  
“Truth,” he whispered.

  
_He knows what I am going to say. Here we go._

  
“Why are you doing this? If it’s that you’re horny, we can just have sex and..” I began, resigned.

  
He cut me off, “You don’t value yourself very much, do you?”

  
“You know what, Tom? Fuck you,” I moved to get up. I’d had it with his stupid game and his ridiculous teasing.

  
His hands moved quickly to grip my thighs, holding me to him. His words began tumbling out, “Wait. The truth is, I’m doing this because I’ve wanted to for months now. Ever since that first night, as a matter of fact. You were wearing a blue dress. You looked ravishing. You kept sliding your finger along the edge of your glass. When you took that first bite of chocolate tart you got a bit at the corner of your mouth. You swiped it with your thumb and fucking sucked it off. I think about doing this every time I lay eyes on you, and every night when you’re not in my bed. _Especially_ at night when you’re not in my bed. Fuck, yes, I am desperately horny right now. Christ. You’re on my fucking lap and your breasts are in my face and I can _smell_ how wet you are. It’s impossible for me not to want to fuck you. You’re breathtaking.”

  
Tom’s eyes were feral, his hands still tight on my thighs, preventing me from moving.

  
“This isn’t funny, Tom.” I said, my eyes moist.

  
“I’m not trying to be funny.” He sat up straighter, his gaze locked onto my lips.

  
“You’re drunk,” I whispered.

  
“I’m not,” he mouthed, barely audible. His nose brushed up against mine, teasing. I closed my eyes. One of his hands had made its way to the small of my back pushing me closer. “I know you have your ‘rules’. Make an exception for me.” His lips moved against the corner of my mouth.

  
“I can’t,” I pleaded.

  
“Try, love. Please.” he ghosted his lips across mine.

  
I gasped lightly and he pressed his warm mouth against mine. The kiss was a question. His lips lingered over mine, both of us with eyes closed, taking a moment to process what was happening.

  
When we parted, I spoke first, “Yes, Tom. I want this. Fuck me. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

  
He arched his hips against my sex and slid his hand up my back. He grabbed a handful of hair and tilted my face to his. I couldn’t escape looking directly into his eyes.

  
“No,” he growled.

  
“No?” I breathed.

  
“We are going to fuck tonight and it is going to mean everything.”

  
He claimed my mouth completely, his lips at first soft and insistent. He felt the moment I submitted, offering my open jaw to him. Groaning he twined both large hands in my hair, trapping me against his heated kiss. Tom was a skilled kisser, teasing and drawing me into him, then playfully tugging at my lower lip. His tongue slid against mine. I grunted softly and brought my hands up to caress his neck. Something inside Tom snapped.  
His hands were suddenly everywhere, pressing me to him, pulling the straps of my top off my shoulders. His tongue began to thrust in my mouth in an obscene promise. He moved to my collarbone, grazing it with his teeth.

  
“Fuck, woman. I have been starving for you,” he muttered against my skin. He traced a pointed tongue up the pulsing vein my neck, ending at my ear where he captured the soft lobe between his teeth. Large hands cupped my ass as he rocked his hips against my cunt.

  
“Jesus, Tom!” I cried.

  
“Too much?” he asked, his mouth at the juncture where my neck and shoulder met.

  
“No. I just … fuck.”

  
Tom palmed a breast over my top, his other hand roaming between my thighs. His fingers ventured up my inner thigh, finding my soft bare lips. The instant he felt me naked under my shorts, he froze and looked at my face.

  
“Oh, fuck.” he said slowly, “you’re not… oh fuck. This whole time?”

  
“The panties I had on under the dress were uncomfortable,” I tried to explain. It sounded pathetic even to my own ears.

  
His fingers traced the curves outside of my pussy agonizingly soft, not probing deeper yet. He raised an eyebrow in an almost pained expression.

  
“So you remove your knickers, and wear these tiny shorts for what reason? To torture me?”

  
“I didn’t think you …” I couldn’t finish. Tom had slipped his long fingers between my labia, exploring my folds, learning me. He ran his fingertips on either side of my slit, then a flat finger over the entrance. His fingers made a “v” around my clit, causing me to grind against his hand, silently begging for more direct friction.

  
He leaned into me to kiss the swells of my breasts. He caught the flesh between his lips and sucked hard, finishing with a small bite. When Tom lifted his head he licked the small purple mark he’d left. My body jumped, completely overwhelmed by all the sensation, yet screaming for more.

  
“Tom. You gave me a hickey. That’s classy.”

  
His face was buried in my cleavage. “Fuck classy. Take off your top.”

  
I lifted the cami over my head, Tom’s fingers still slowly teasing my pussy.

  
“You are so fucking wet. You have my entire hand dripping,” he watched my breasts nearly bouncing out of the confines of the cups as I rode his hand. His glare was intense. He chewed on his bottom lip, “the bra has to come off too.”

  
“Are you always this bossy when you’re fucking, Tom?”

  
“Are you always this sarcastic? Take of your fucking bra and stop teasing me, Minx.” He cocked his jaw and flicked my clit to drive his point home. I bucked into his hand, reaching between my tits to unfasten my bra, then worked it off my shoulders.

  
“Fucking gorgeous,” he muttered, then took a nipple into his mouth, suckling. I fisted my hands in his hair, and tilted his face up to mine for another kiss.

  
“Now it’s time for you to stop teasing me, Thomas. I need you to make me cum.”

  
“Fuck. Say that again.”

  
“Tom, make me cum.”

  
His gaze darkened and he immediately thrust two long fingers deep inside my cunt, curving them toward my navel. His thumb grazed my clit slowly back and forth, building tension.

  
“Like this, darling?” he said through clenched teeth.

  
“Yes. Oh fuck, yes”

  
I was riding his hand roughly, moaning nonsense, the wet sounds of his hand fucking me filling the room.

  
Tom crossed his fingers inside me, filling me further. His thumb began to press downward at the base of my clit.

  
“Oh. God, Tom. I’m going to come.”

  
He grasped a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back, “Cum, then. Cum…”

  
Tom’s mouth went to my neck, kissing, sucking, devouring me. He bit down hard on the fleshy part of my shoulder.

  
It was enough to send me spiraling into my orgasm. My legs tightened on Tom’s thighs, my mouth was slack. No sound at all came out of my mouth as I peaked, eyes pressed shut. I squeezed his fingers tightly, pulsing clear liquid all over his hand, wetting the entire thing up to his wrist.

  
Tom brought his forehead to meet mine, my breath was still choppy.

  
“That was beautiful,” he breathed, “I would watch you like that all day.”

  
“Sounds exhausting,” I laughed shakily.

  
He chuckled softly and we shared a kiss. I slid closer to him, running my hands under his shirt.

  
“Isn’t there something you need now, Tom?” I pressed my damp pussy onto his erection.

  
“Yes, I’ve needed it for quite some time.”

  
He raised his arms as I lifted his shirt over his head. I marveled at his body. I had always found him attractive, but I felt like I had never seen him before this moment. Hair mussed, pupils dilated, a mask of pure lust on his face. He was beautiful, raw, and unbearably sexy.

  
I took the same path that he did, moving from jaw to neck, licking and nibbling, then surprising him by sucking hard and the joining of his trim neck and sculpted shoulder.

  
“Fuck!” he groaned, bucking his hips into me.

  
“I thought you’d like to have matching ones,” I teased, then licked my way up to his ear, dipping my pink tongue in, “See? Now I’ve marked you.”

  
Tom’s hands were at my hips, holding me tight against him.

  
I rocked against his cock, slowly, feeling his hands clench tightly on my flesh.

  
My hands trailed down his torso, opening his jeans, raising myself so I could work them over his hips. Tom kicked off his shoes and socks, and I pulled his jeans off.

  
Something had shifted. I stood up in front of him, wearing only those damp shorts. My lips felt swollen and sore. The marks Tom left bright on my skin. My hair was tied in whorish knots. But, I couldn’t place the look he was giving me.

  
“You alright handsome?” I asked, “Having second thoughts?”

  
“Never,” he swallowed, “come here.”

  
He pulled me to stand in front of him and slid the short over my hips. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

  
I shifted uncomfortably. “Tom?”

  
He was running his hands over my curves, his eyes greedily taking in every inch. “Yes?”

  
“Fuck me.”

  
He smiled. “On your back. On the floor. Now.”

  
I complied immediately, pulling him on top of me.

  
Tom ran his hand up my side, ending at my breast. He cradled it, thrumming his thumb across the nipple. I wiggled impatiently underneath him.

  
“There is a part of me that wants to really savor this. This moment that I’ve fantasized about so often,” he began, “There is also a huge part of me that wants to take you hard and fast right fucking now.”

  
I giggled, “Yes. I think I know what that part is. It hard, huge and it’s poking me in the hip.”

  
Tom laughed, and raised himself on top of me, supporting himself on his forearms. His eyes searched mine as I took his cock in my hand and guided it to my entrance. He slid into me with an excruciating slowness, causing me to let out a low moan and him to arch his neck.

  
“Fuck, Tom,” I breathed, “are you kidding me with that thing?”

  
Tom stilled, fully seated inside me, he ran his thumb across my bottom lip, “No jokes. No sarcasm. No walls up. Not right now, darling.”

  
He placed a kiss at the corner of my mouth and looked deeply into my eyes. I could feel my vision clouding. I pulled him in for a deep kiss, determined not to cry while this man was inside me.

  
I lifted my hips against his and grabbed his ass to spur him on.

  
Tom began to move slowly at first, rolling to meet my thrusts.

  
I bucked against him, “Harder, Tom. Please.”

  
His nostrils flared and a vein began to pulse in his temple.

  
“Why are you holding back, Tom?” I cried, “Fuck me.”

  
He gripped my ass roughly with one hand, angling me into him. He pounded into me, losing all control.

  
“Yes, Tom, I’m so close. Hit me hard. Hit me right there.”

  
He increased his pace with a growl and I unraveled, my pussy clasping his cock tightly. Tom roared, throwing his head back, a string of expletives mixed with my name on his lips like a prayer.

  
It wasn’t until minutes later, as we rested in a mass of sweaty tangled limbs that I knew that Tom was right. This, whatever it was, had meant everything. How that would change things for us remained to be seen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Tom and OFC stay friends with benefits?

“Hmmm, I don’t think I’m going to shower. I’ll just walk around all day smelling like you.”

  
I looked down at Tom, his head resting on the stretch of naked flesh between my navel and sex. His tousled curls tickled my skin. We were nestled in a cocoon of messy bedding, utterly nude, still coming back to earth after our shared orgasmic high.

  
“You’re crazy,” I laughed lightly, fingering a particularly errant curl, “and what will you tell people when they ask why you smell like pussy?”

  
He raised his head to look at me, then righted himself to begin a slow crawl up my body.

  
“I’ll tell them,” he paused to place a kiss on the patch of trimmed hair covering my cunt.

  
“…That I spent the entire morning,” he nipped at my belly, causing me to jerk.

  
“…With my face,” he traced the curve of my ribcage with his tongue.

  
“…And fingers,” Tom caught one nipple between his lips and suckled it slowly, his brow crinkling as if he was eating an especially tasty chocolate. He moaned low in the back of his throat, causing me to squirm under him.

  
He moved to my neck, kissing leisurely until his mouth was at my ear.

  
“… And cock,” he whispered, then pursing his lips, blew into the small cavern, inciting my entire body to break out in gooseflesh.

  
“..Between the thighs of this beautiful woman,” he whispered against my mouth. He brushed his lips against mine until my jaw slackened, then tasted me with an unhurried kiss.

  
I closed my eyes, unable to control my response to the delicious new assault, and pressed my body against his larger frame. He slid his hands up my arms and pinned my wrists above my head. My body arched against his as he traced my entire side with his knuckles, following the line of my curves from arm, to the sensitive areas under, the side of my breast, the gentle slope where my waist flared into my hip.

  
Tom rolled his hips against mine. “Get on top of me.”

  
I bit my lower lip and slowly shook my head, “You’ll be late.”

  
Tom ground his hips into me again, “I don’t care.”

  
“What will Luke say?”

  
“I’m sure he’ll understand once I explain what kept me,” he cupped a breast in each hand and kneaded them, bringing them together to tongue the shadow between.

  
“And what is that?” I muttered, readying to surrender.

  
_Tom was going to be late today. Very late._

  
His face was pressed between my tits, sucking at the taught skin in the valley.“That I couldn’t keep you off my cock.”

  
I threw my head back and laughed loudly. “Somehow I am seeing this situation differently.”

  
“Alright, then,” he traced the darkened area that surrounded my nipple with a pointed tongue, then flicked it over the tense peak, holding eye contact, “you call Luke and tell him your side of the story.”

  
“Mmmm…That you pinned me to the bed with your freakishly tall body and wouldn’t let me up until you were through with me?”

  
“Sounds dirty,” Tom gave me a devilish grin and hitched and eyebrow,“However, I was thinking more along the lines of after your sixth orgasm, you lost consciousness and don’t know why I was late.”

  
I tapped my chin with my finger, thinking, “Hmm.. I don’t remember a fourth orgasm, let alone a fifth or sixth.”

  
Tom gripped my hips tightly, and growled playfully, “That’s why you need to get on top of me. Now.”

  
He flipped us easily, and I sat up on his stomach, giggling. I let out a slow breath and bit my lower lip.

  
“I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this,” he sighed, his eyes raking over my body, taking in my wanton post-sex nakedness, my hair full and tousled from sweat and the varied attention of his fingers, mouth red and swollen from his heated kissing and the friction of his cock, rosy nipples peaked, chest flushed from arousal and the delicious irritation of his morning stubble.

  
“Well, give it time, we’ve only been fucking a month,” I teased.

  
He slid his hands up my back, pulling me down to him, “Come here.”

  
I was leaning into him, my breasts just brushing his chest when I caught sight of the clock.

  
“Tom, you’ve got to go. It’s almost ten.”

  
I crawled onto the other side of the bed. “Go on. Go to work. You know you can’t be late.”

  
Tom pouted., “You’re so mean to me all the time, and all I want to ever do is make you come over and over again.”

  
“And keep me on your cock.”

  
“Of course,” he smiled, then sighed, “Fine. I’m getting up. Shower with me?”

  
I shook my head. “Late. Thomas.”

  
“Alright, woman. Jesus. But listen,” he rolled on his side to face me and cupped my sex possessively with his palm, “tonight, I’m having this as much as I want.”

  
He squeezed and gave me a wink. “Understand?”

  
I smiled, “Yes, sir.”

  
“Sir? Oh, I can get used to that.”

  
I wiggled against his hand and licked my lips. He gave me a quick peck and stood up.

  
“Stop, you temptress! Your feminine charms shall not make me tardy..” He quipped, over-dramatic. “Onward, to the shower!”

  
I called after him, “You’re such a dork!”

  
“Ehehehe..” he laughed and I heard the shower start.

  
I stretched out in bed, feeling content, walking the fine line of being sated and the blossoming of new arousal. Tom had kept me there for the better part of the month since we had added sex to our friendship.

  
God, he was incredible in bed. There really weren’t enough superlatives in the English language to do him justice.

  
I honestly couldn’t remember what I had been worried about that first night together. Vulnerability, rejection? Sure. That things would change? Yes. But we had been able to enjoy this new aspect with very little struggle. Most of my free time was spent with Tom, just like before. We laughed together, enjoyed each others company, had effortless conversations. All just like before. The lone difference was every time we saw one another, it began with a kiss and ended with a decidedly grown up sleepover.

  
So this is what it’s like to have your cake and eat it, too, and tonight, Tom is going to have me as much as he wants.

  
The thought went straight to my core and spread out in warm tingles throughout my body. I smiled to myself.

  
Tonight.

  
Wait.

  
Tonight…

  
_Oh shit._

  
I sat up in bed and clutched the sheets around me. It took only an instant to decide that I wasn’t going to tell him. If Tom was anything, he was a sentimental fool. He would make such a fuss.

  
_My birthday._

  
It’s not that I forgot I was turning a year older. It’s not that I was embarrassed by my increasing age, wanting to hide it from Tom. He had seen me naked, exposed to him in every way in the short time we had been sleeping together. In his own delectable way, he had paid tribute to every stretch mark, saggy bit of skin, and fine line. Then there was the night when he had traced each of the spider veins on my thigh with his tongue before finally…

  
No it definitely wasn’t that.

  
I padded across the carpet and wrapped myself in my robe. I looked out the window, taking a moment to try and give a name to the uneasiness I was feeling.

  
I heard the water stop rushing in the adjacent bathroom and turned to see Tom walking into my room, still nude and dripping, with a towel draped round his neck.

  
He rustled the towel through his hair, drying it.

  
“So, darling, should I come here tonight or would you like to come at my place?” He continued toweling off.

  
“Ah.. I think you should come here.” I replied, teasing him with his own word play.

  
He laughed, and grabbed the jeans he had worn to my house the evening before, sliding them on without boxers, as was his norm.

  
“You’re wearing those?” I asked.

  
“Clearly.”

  
“After last night?” I raised an eyebrow, remembering how I had ridden his denim clad thigh after we shared a bottle of wine, leaving the leg of his jeans soaked with my feminine fluid.

  
“Especially after that,” he buttoned the pants, and pecked me on the cheek.

  
My cell phone buzzed. Text alert.

  
“Ignore it,” I said.

  
He placed a chaste kiss on my mouth and walked over to my desk chair to grab his t-shirt and jacket.

  
Two more pings from my phone signaling texts. My mother, I’m sure, sending birthday greetings. Always a multiple texter, she would continue until I replied.

  
“Someone is desperate to reach you,” he said, reaching for my phone to hand it to me.

  
“Tom! Don’t!” I said with a little too much urgency. He had the phone in his fingers already. A mischievous glint appeared in his eye.

  
“Oh, someone’s got a secret, have they?” he teased, “Perhaps texts from a boy, young lady?” His eyes got big and he grinned, lifting the phone above his head, playing keep-away with me.

  
“Dammit Tom, give me my phone. It’s private.” I tried to grab the phone from his hand, but he spun around and gently strong armed me.

  
Suddenly, his face and voice softened, lowering the phone. “Wait. Is it from a guy?”

  
“It’s my mother, I’m almost positive.”

  
He smiled weakly and held out the phone to me, screen up.

  
Another text tone, and the phone lit up. My mom, once more, sending a message. It was printed across the lock screen:

_-Do let your dad and I know if you have plans this weekend, Peanut. Happy Birthday!-_

Tom and I saw the message at the same instant.

  
I snatched it from his hand. “See? My mother,” I muttered.

  
Tom’s face split into a huge toothy smile. “Your birthday. When is it?”

  
“Soon.”

  
“How soon?”

  
“This week.”

  
“What day?”

  
I walked to my desk and set my phone down.

  
“It’s today, isn’t it?”

  
Taking three quick strides across the room, he scooped me up from behind, wrapping his hands around my waist. He spun around, taking me with him, causing me to squeal.

  
“Christ, Tom! Set me back down.”

  
When he did and I turned to see him, his eyes were wildly playful his lower lip trapped in his white teeth. “I’m taking you out tonight,” he said, pointing at me threateningly.

  
“No.”

  
He nodded. “I’ll be here at eight. Wear a dress.”

  
“No,” I enunciated, then “why a dress?”

  
“I like you in a dress. Isn’t that what you’d wear on a date?”

  
“Tom,” I said, ever the voice of reason, “we’re not dating. We’re fucking.”

  
“Eight o’clock.” he said, sliding his shoes on, then walking toward the bedroom door.

  
“This is _not_ a date,” I said.

  
“Suit yourself,” he called from the hallway.

  
“ _Not a date._ I’m not even going to shave my legs!” I yelled at the bedroom door.

  
“If you think that’s going to stop me from trying to seduce you, you’re dead wrong,” he hollered from the front of my flat, “Eight o’clock!”

  
I heard the door close behind him, leaving a silent apartment.

  
I flopped on my bed.

  
_Fuck._

_*_

I lied about not shaving my legs.

  
Two hours into agonizing about what fresh hell this pseudo-date would wreak on our perfectly satisfying arrangement, I came up with a battle plan.

  
Tom is a sentimental fool, yes. But also a ravenous sex fiend, and that is something I can work with.

  
Get the man into a bed early in the evening. Spare both of us the humiliation of this pretend date.

  
I reached under my bed and found a closed box, tied with a dusty ribbon, Agent Provocateur printed on the lid. I had shoved it unworn into the storage along with the memories of the man for whom I had bought it, the last Valentine’s Day I had spent coupled with someone. I had been full of idealistic fantasies and bought this uniform to wear as I made them a reality. Then the man became predictable. My heart had been broken and I never looked back at the expensive scraps of lace and mesh or the scraps of my girlish delusions.

  
The lingerie however, was undoubtedly still gorgeous. I traced the curves of the nude mesh bra. The black lace trim was a stark contrast to the arguably invisible cups. The garter belt followed suit, being barely there to the point of indecency. Stockings. Nude with a black seam to draw the eye up the leg. Panties. I would conveniently skip those.

  
The dress? Red, of course. A wrap dress to cinch me at the waist and show just enough leg when called for. I wanted to look like sex, straight up. Plus, just untie it and …

  
Shoes? Nude stilettos. Elongate the leg and put me nearly eye to eye with Tom.

  
Soft waves for my hair begging for him to tangle his hands in there. A smoky eye and nude lip. I surveyed myself in the bathroom mirror, adjusting my cleavage and adding a final spritz of fragrance.

  
Tom was due in fifteen minutes.

  
_We’d never make it out of my flat._

  
Promptly at eight, Tom rang the intercom. I buzzed him up and took my stance. Raising my stiletto-clad foot on the coffee table, I reached behind to adjust the strap of my garter allowing my dress to fall over my leg as it may.

  
Tom rapped on the door.

  
“It’s open!”

  
He walked in and stopped.

  
“Hey,” I said casually, “I’ll be ready in a minute. I just need to straighten this damn suspender.”

  
I put both feet on the ground and turned my back to him, then lifted my wrap skirt to the side, revealing the back of my stockings and the lowest curve of my ass.

  
I looked over my shoulder at him. “How does that look, Tom?”

  
I had never seen the man unable to speak before.

  
I let my skirt fall, covering me to just above the knee, turned and walked slowly to him. My eyes stayed on his.

  
“Are those for me?” I asked, referring to the flowers at his side, hanging in his fist forgotten.

  
I set them on the side table.

  
I looked down his body, taking my time. His suit was well fitting. “You look incredible, Tom. Almost as good as you look completely undressed. There’s just one thing.”

  
My body was centimeters away from his, I reached up to straighten his tie, “That’s better.”

  
I parted my lips and pulled him toward me, grasping his tie right below the knot.

  
He found his voice, though it was gravelly and tight. “I know precisely what you’re doing.”

  
I snaked my tongue out to tease his lips. “Isn’t this what you want? For me to dress like this for you?”

  
“Darling, you have no idea how perfectly this caters to all my basest desires, but I’m still taking you out tonight.”

  
I slid my hands over his shoulders to the back of his neck, and twined my fingers in his hair. “You don’t have to, Tom. I know what I want for my birthday.”

  
I didn’t wait for him to ask. I drew one finger down his body to the front of his trousers. I pressed my palm against his hardening cock. Tightening my grip around him, I felt him pulse and expand under my touch. This was almost too easy.

  
“Everything I want is right here.” I pumped him slowly through his pants. Tom’s eyes were dark, his jaw clenched. I used the hand still in his hair to pull his mouth to mine.

  
I kissed him lightly, teasing him.

  
He laughed softly. “You are so bad.”

  
I chewed on the corner of my lip. “I am, Tom. I am very, very bad. I need to be taught a lesson.” I squeezed his cock lightly, twisting at the tip. I could feel a small spot of moisture seeping through his trousers. I brushed my thumb over it, teasing the head.

  
“Fuck yes, you do,” Tom growled and took my mouth in a desperate kiss. His lips slanted against mine, his tongue not waiting for permission. Rough fingers cupped my jaw, holding me in place.

  
Before I was fully aware of what was happening, he circled my wrist with his hand and pinning it behind my back, spun me so my ass was pressed up against him.

  
Holding me there, he trailed open mouthed kissed down the column of my neck.

  
“Mmmm.. you smell divine tonight. I think I’ll eat you up,” he scraped his teeth over the junction of my neck and shoulder. “I don’t know about this dress, though. It’s gorgeous on you, of course. But quite racy. Everyone might think you’re my whore.”

  
My breath caught in my throat and I arched my back against him.

  
He brushed his fingers over the top of my thigh, sliding his hand under my dress. He gasped. “Oh, and what’s this? Completely bare under your dress, darling?”

  
I arched my hips against his hand trying to force his touch where I craved him most.

  
“So needy for me,” he chuckled, “Are you ready for your lesson, _whore_?”  
“Yes,” I breathed, knowing that whatever “punishment” he would dish out, I would lap up greedily like a kitten with a saucer of cream.

  
Tom nipped ay my ear, catching my earring between his teeth and tugging then letting it fall against my neck.

  
“Get your coat. We’re going out.”

  
*

'I put your flowers in a vase while you were in the other room getting your wrap,” Tom offered helpfully while we walked to his car.

  
“Thanks.” I pulled my shawl around me tighter.

  
“Oh, don’t pout,” Tom teased, “I have something special planned. We’re going to have a great time.”

  
“I’m not pouting,” I pouted.

  
Tom grinned and opened the door for me, deciding to let my comment pass, “You do look magnificent tonight. It took every fiber of my being to walk out of your flat just now.”

  
“We could go back and finish what we started,” I said.

  
Tom ignored that comment too and got in the driver’s seat. I leaned down under the guise of adjusting my shoe then allowed my fingers to trace their way up my leg and my dress fell open to expose just a hint of where the black lace trim of my stocking met my naked thigh.

  
Tom’s eyes fell to my legs and he grunted under his breath he chewed on his lips as if lost in thought. Finally he spoke.

  
“This,” he snapped the top of my stocking, “is very inviting.”

  
He let his palm rest on my thigh and started the car, winking in my direction. “It’s your birthday and I’m the one who gets to unwrap a present.”

*

The restaurant Tom had chosen was small, quaint in décor and bustling. He guided me to the entrance by my elbow, and opening the door bowed slightly and waved me in. I smirked at his outlandish behavior. He seemed intent on courting me properly tonight.

  
We were ushered to a small room off the main dining area. For Tom’s privacy I’m sure. I’d grown so accustomed to his goofiness, it sometimes slipped my mind that he was a celebrity. Tom had a warm smile on his face a we walked through the crowed, nodding his head and discreetly waving at those brave enough to admit they recognized him.

  
“Thank you, John. That’s perfectly fine for now,” he spoke to our usher as soon as we reached the doors to the private dining room.

  
John bowed his head and walked away, hands clasped behind his back.

  
Tom smiled at me. “Are you ready, darling?”

  
“Okay,” I said warily.

  
“Close your eyes.”

  
“Really, Tom?”

  
“Yes.”

  
I sighed and closed them, as he opened the door and guided me in.

  
“Alright, love. Open.”

  
_This has to be a fire hazard. So many candles. So much fabric._

  
The room was undoubtedly gorgeous, candles gracing every flat surface. White gauzy fabric was draped in a makeshift tent over the small dining area. Strings of white lights were weaved throughout.

  
A low bouquet of flower adorned the main table between two place settings of china. An ice bucket stood alert at the side, with Vueve Cliquot chilling. Quiet music was piped in somehow. I recognized the tune. _At last_ by Etta James.

  
_Oh, he’s very good._

  
I turned to face him and arched a sarcastic eyebrow. “What, no string quartet?”

  
“Ehehehe, I know this sort of thing tends to embarrass you, so I thought it should be just you and I for tonight. I’m afraid we’ll have to settle for my I pod and speakers.”

  
His smile was soft and expectant. “Do you like it?”

  
“It’s beautiful, Tom,” I answered honestly. “Thank you.”

  
Once seated, Tom expertly opened the champagne. We chatted easily. Multiple courses were brought in and the bubbly kept flowing. I began to relax.

  
I can handle this. I thought. This is just Tom and I having dinner, as usual. Dinner in a floofy fairy light tent, but dinner nonetheless.

  
We laughed together until the candles gutted out one by one, leaving the room dim.

  
As the plates from our cheese course were cleared, our server stated,

“Dessert will be a few minutes, sir. The chef prepares all souffles made to order.”

  
Tom eyed me over tented fingers from across the table. I traced the rim of my champagne goblet with the tip of my finger and met his gaze.

  
“Could you please tell the chef to hold off on the desert? We’ll let you know when were ready.”

  
“Certainly, sir.”

  
When we were alone, Tom rose and walked to the door, locking it.

  
He walked slowly over to me, offering his hand to me.

  
“Dance with me.”

  
“You know I don’t..” I started.

  
“I know. But you should.” He replied pulling me to him.

  
He swayed with me gently, guiding me in an easy step, one hand low on my back, the other intertwined with mine, curled against his heart.

  
I swallowed, feeling more exposed to him than ever. I memorized the pattern on his tie.

  
“Look at me, darling.”

  
I raised my eyes to his and saw something there, nameless, raw and unrecognizable to me.

  
“Tom..” I began.

  
“Shh…” he twirled me and brought me close to him again. “Let’s just enjoy this.”

  
I began to listen to the lyrics, struggling to find something to focus on other than Tom’s eyes. The playlist had revisited classic soul, Sam Cooke’s Tha _t’s Where It’s At_.

_Lights turned way down low_   
_Music soft and slow_   
_With someone you love so_   
_That’s where it’s at_

_Your world turned upside down_   
_You’re makin’ not a sound_   
_No one else around_   
_That’s where it’s at_

_Your heart beatin’ fast_   
_You’re knowin’ time will pass_   
_But hopin’ that it lasts_   
_That’s where it’s at_

I had found a name for what I had seen. I knew what the unrecognizable was now. I cleared my throat.

  
“Tom..”

  
“Shh..” he spun me again and lowered his forward to touch mine. I closed my eyes as he whispered the concluding verse, his breath sweetly fanning over my cheeks

_You say it’s time to go_   
_And she says yes I know_   
_But just stay one minute more…_

He trailed off and swallowed, “Darling, I have something for you, but I think I’d like to open my present first.”

  
He backed me up slowly until my ass was against the cleared table.

  
“Tonight was supposed to be for you, but I need to ask you something.”

  
_Oh God._

  
“Can I have you here and now? Will you give this to me?”

  
I was relieved to hear the conversation turn to sex. It was familiar territory for us.

  
“Isn’t that what you promised me this morning?” I smiled, “To have me as much as you want.”

  
Tom exhaled, “As much as I want,” his eyes searched mine “Do you know how much I want, darling?”

  
I crinkled my brows in confusion. _I had thought…._

  
“I want all of you.”

  
He brought his mouth to mine, his kiss a silent plea for me to do, say, feel something, anything in return. With my eyes stinging, I returned his kiss, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, pulling at his hair, trying to bring out any kind of base instinct. He our kiss and smiled. “Mmm.. you taste delicious.”

  
I nipped at his lower lip and he laughed quietly.

  
“Behave,” he whispered.

  
I shook my head, and nipped at him again, “I can’t. Unless you make me.”

  
I started at his tie, loosening it and unbuttoning his shirt, then pushing jacket shirt and tie off his shoulders in one movement. I needed to bring this situation under control as fast as possible. I had let it go too far, pretending that this was something it wasn’t.

  
“What do you want from me tonight, Tom?” I whispered, dipping my hand into the waist band of his trousers, finding his cock hard and hot. I slid my hand over it from root to tip. “To put my mouth on your cock? To take me from behind?”

  
He leaned his head back and with eyes closed and slack jaw, muttered, “I don’t know that your willing to give me what I want.”

  
“You know me, Tom. Up for anything.”

  
“Is that so, darling?” he asked, “Lay back on the table.”

  
I looked over my shoulder, and reclined on my elbows, situating myself as best I could with the remaining clutter.

  
Tom’s eyes blazed as he saw my skirt slide apart revealing my lace topped stockings. He chewed his lip as if contemplating his next move. His bare, toned chest was rising and falling, his fists clenched at his sides.

  
“I guess the first thing do to, darling, is untie this bow,” his hands went to my waist and as he opened the front of my dress, his eyes visibly widened. My nipples pressed against the sheer cups, deeply pink. I was bare to him below the waist except for the lacework of the garter belt.

  
“Oh, love. You overwhelm me,” Tom caressed my waist up to my breast, cupping it, brushing my nipple with his thumb, gritting his teeth as he felt it harden further. “I’m going to fuck you with all of this on, darling. You are fulfilling every dirty teenage fantasy I had, do you know that? Fuck.”

  
His breathing began to escalate. Mine matched his. I was already aching for him and squirming under his scrutiny.

  
“Spread your thighs, darling. We have to be quick. When I get you home, I’m going to take this off delicious piece by piece and take you so aching slow you’ll be …”

  
Tom moved his hand to my bare cunt, pressing just inside my fleshy outer lips. “Oh fuck you’re so wet already… I’ll take you so slow you’ll be melting in my hand… fuck.”

  
I began to arch my sex into his hand, trying to pull him deeper, seeking release already.

  
“Although,”

  
“Yes, Tom?”

  
“There is one thing I wish you were wearing in addition to all of this.”

  
“What’s that?” I sighed.

  
“Come get it. Its in my pocket.”

  
Sitting up, my legs wide around him, I reached into his trousers uncertain of what to expect.

  
A blindfold? Restraints? I couldn’t begin to guess.

  
My fingers ran over something hard and metallic. I pulled it out in and opened my fist. A simple bracelet in platinum. One lone charm adorned it. I examined it. Platinum and enamel. With a small sparkling clear stone.  
I grinned wide as I saw what the charm was. “Tom…you shouldn’t have.”

  
“It’s a chocolate tart,” he explained, “to commemorate the night we met.”

  
“It’s lovely, Tom,” I said as he fastened it around my wrist, “thank you. I have to admit you had me worried for a moment.”

  
My hands started for his belt, I needed him inside me.

  
“Why?”

  
I laughed, “I thought I was going to have to deal with some awkward declaration of love.”

  
He gave me a pained smile. “Darling…”

  
His tone stopped me. I looked at his face, looking for an answer.

  
_No._

  
“Check my other pocket.”

  
I shook my head slowly.

  
He reached in himself and brought out his fist. I felt like I was outside my own body as he opened it in what seemed to take minutes from start to finish. In his palm was a tiny heart charm. No bigger than a coin. On it was engraved a single word: _Tom’s._

  
Relieved it wasn’t a ring, I laughed nervously. “What have you got there, Tom?”

  
“It’s my heart,” he said simply. “I’d like you to have it.”

  
I smiled, “You know I care about you.”

  
“I know.”

  
“And this evening has been fun. But at the end of the day, you can’t escape the truth that we are good friends that fuck. You’re acting like we’re falling in love or something.” I tried to laugh to lighten the mood, anything to relieve the tightening in my throat.

  
“I’m not falling in love with you,” he said.

  
I smiled.

  
“I’m already completely utterly in love with you.”

  
I froze, “No.”

  
“Yes.”

  
“Tom, stop this immediately.” I stood up and pushed him out of the way, closing my dress around me and tying it.

  
“Stop loving you?”

  
“Stop saying that!” I yelled, “Sure we spend a lot of time together, laugh and have fun, and you’re one of my best friends. Yes, we have mind blowing sex. But that’s not a relationship!”

  
“What else is there to a relationship?” he was remaining calm and it was making me feel more crazy.

  
“I have to go. Thank you for the dinner.” I waved my hand in the general direction of the heart charm, “I’m sorry I can’t accept that.”

  
“You can’t accept my feelings for you? Why the hell not?”

  
“Just. Fucking. Stop.” I yanked off the bracelet and tossed it on the table, “I can’t accept this either. Goodbye. Tom.”

  
I walked out of the restaurant and hailed a cab. I didn’t look back.

*

  
I cried myself to sleep that night. I had been so stupid. By trying to have it all, I had lost him.

  
I slept fitfully, dreaming of sitting on Tom’s lap, laughing together, feeding each other chocolate tart with our fingers.

I woke before dawn and deciding it was useless to try and sleep, walked to the living room for some mindless telly. On the floor by the front door was an envelope with my name on it in Tom’s nearly illegible script.

  
I opened it.

  
Inside were the two charms and a note.

_You are never going to be able to erase the fact that we met._

  
_And you have this other thing too, to do with what you wish._

_I love you, Tom_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and OFC have parted ways, but when they meet at a party can they remain friends?

_My hands were bound at the wrist and behind my back. My thighs were spread wide over Tom’s lap„ cunt throbbing and impaled._

  
_Tom thrust up into me, using my body, guiding my hips up and down his shaft. One…two …three times. Then he went still._

  
_“Say it,” he ordered._

  
_“No.” I breathed._

  
_Tom wrapped my hair around his hand and made a fist, pulling my head back. He grazed his teeth along the line of my jaw._

  
_“You want me.” It wasn’t a question, but I answered, bound by the truth._

  
_“Yes.”_

  
_“Say it..” he growled, thrusting hard and deep._

  
_“Tom, I can’t.”_

  
_“You’re mine,” he panted, “I’ve claimed every part of you, haven’t I?”_

  
_“Yes.”_

  
_He slipped his slender thumb in my mouth. I immediately sucked at it, starving for any part of him._

  
_“Your mouth is mine.” he rocked into me, still fully seated._

  
_“Yes.”_

  
_His wet thumb trailed to my nipple, ghosting it lightly, then pinching. I gasped and jumped, sliding on his cock._

  
_Tom moaned and roughly palmed both of my breasts. “And these are mine.”_

  
_“Yes.”_

  
_His hands moved to cup my ass, trailing his finger down the cleft. “And who does this belong to, darling? Tell me.”_

  
_He thrust into me fast and hard. “Tell me,” he gritted._

  
_“You.” I moaned._

  
_“Yes. Fuck, yes. You love it when I have you that way, don’t you, my dirty girl?”_

__  
_“Yes. Yes. Fuck me, Tom. I’m so close.”_

  
_“Mmmm… I will… if you say it.”_

  
_“I can’t. I can’t.” I shook my head, tears pricking the corners of my eyes._

  
_“Oh that’s a shame.” he drew his hand to where our bodies were joined, lightly playing with the sensitive bud. “What about this delicious little candy button that I crave on my tongue? Who’s is this?”_

  
_He stroking was driving me mad, I was trying to grind against him, but his other hand held me fast._

  
_“It’s yours Tom. I’m all yours.”_

  
_“All of you?”_

  
_“Yes..”_   
_“But what about this?” he arched his hips into me again, “This tight, wet cunt? Is this mine?”_

  
_“Yes…don’t stop…please..” I was sweating now, my legs quivering with my imminent release._

  
_“I’ve marked you in every way haven’t I? With my mouth, my teeth?”_

  
_“Yes.”_

  
_“My fingers?”_

  
_“Yes Tom..please I need more.”_

  
_“My cock?” he plunged into me, this time rolling his hips._

  
_“Oh God, yes!”_

  
_“My cum? I’ve marked you with that, yes?” he started picking up his rhythm._

  
_“Yes..”_

  
_“Inside and out?” his voice was strained. He was close._

  
_“Yes. Yes. Don’t stop.”_

  
_“How much of you belongs to me?”_

  
_“All of me Tom..”_

  
_“Say it, please, darling,” his eyes were pleading, his brow furrowed._

  
_“My body is yours. My heart…”_

  
_“Your heart….? Then say it…please….say it…..”_

I woke up skating the edge of orgasm and despair. I’d had the dream at least three times in as many days. I stared at the ceiling, ordering myself not to cry.

*

I wish I could say that Tom showed up in the street under my bedroom window expressing his feelings for me in song, pleading with me to give love a solid chance. I wish I could say he bombarded me with gaudy bouquets of peonies and roses, decadent chocolates, and oversized tacky stuffed animals. I wish I could say he wrote me poetry and slipped it under my door in an envelope scented with his cologne. It would make for a better tale, for sure.

But it wouldn’t be the truth.

The truth is I worked on rewriting my novel, pouring myself into following my editor’s suggestions. I polished it like a copper pot until it was close to gleaming. I took breaks to cry for Tom, and I took breaks to cry for myself. I spent a little time lost in thought, trying to make sense of what happened. I went out with friends to bars and dinners, laughing a little too heartily while half-assedly having a good time. I stared out the window and drank coffee, pleasantly numb. Then I threw myself at the manuscript and polished once more, this time harder.

A week passed. Then ten days.

Tom didn’t attempt to contact me after the envelope loaded with the charms. I didn’t dare lay eyes on them again after that early morning, putting them and the note in the box that contained the unlucky lingerie and shoving it back into deep storage.

That lingerie. I would eventually have to get rid of it. I knew that. After I had stripped it off that final night, choked by tension in my throat that I wasn’t ready to release in tears, I had thrown it on the living room floor, prepared to light the fireplace and burn the cursed things in effigy.

In the end I decided against it, folding it, unwashed, and placing it back in the box. I told myself that the pieces were too fine, too expensive to destroy. I couldn’t live with wasting that money. Plus it wasn’t the lingerie’s fault. (Did I mention that I had begun to question my own sanity?)

Some small part of me knew, whispering from the back of my neck, that it wasn’t the reason. I couldn’t erase Tom’s face as he unwrapped me, confessing his boyhood fantasy. The hunger in his eyes. But more than hunger. _Longing._

I couldn’t afford to look to closely at that, or the emotions it brought up. My knee jerk conclusion became: We all had idealistic teenage fantasies about love and sex and relationships. Some of us grew up. Some of us became sentimental fools.

Two weeks since my birthday came and went. It was the longest Tom and I had gone without talking. I began to breathe a little easier. My grief was ebbing and flowing, no longer a crushing omnipresent weight on my chest. The dreams were less frequent, and when they did come, less troubling. Tom and I were through in every sense, and it was for both of our benefit. He could move on to someone younger, with a heart less jaded. I could move onto…what? Work, I suppose. I returned to polish my novel with renewed fervor.

I had long since given up on expecting Tom to try and reach me via call or text, so my stomach didn’t lurch the rainy morning my phone buzzed, signaling I had a message.  
  
It was my literary agent.

_-Vanguard Magazine party is tonight. Don’t forget. 8pm-_

I sent a text back.

_-Can’t go. Elbow deep in this manuscript. No time for schmoozing. I’m fighting a deadline. A deadline you gave me. -_

Seconds later:

_-This one is non-negotiable. Everyone who freelanced for the magazine this year is going. 8pm. Emailing you the address and directions.-_

I was sending another excuse-filled text back when my phone pinged again.

_-Are you going to the Vanguard cocktail thing tonight? I know you might be invited since you’ve written for them. I was planning on being there, but didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I know you need some distance. Love, Tom-_

I stared at the small screen unsure of how to respond. I wasn’t enough of a drama queen to demand he stay away from my party, and I did miss him. But there was the damning four letter word tacked on at the end: _Love._

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, then typed and erased several messages.

Finally, I sent two nearly identical texts.

To my agent:

_-I’ll be there. Fine. I’ll wait to hear from you.-_

To Tom:

_- I’ll be there. You do as you like, I’m perfectly fine. It’s good to hear from you.-_

I hit send and waited, staring my phone down, willing it to ping, or not, I wasn’t sure. No response from Tom. I returned to my work, distracted by the hope that I had played this correctly.

I arrived at the party at 8:20, hating myself for straining my neck to see if Tom had already arrived, if he was attending at all. It didn’t take me long to spot him, tall as he was, over by the bar. My reaction was immediate and visceral and I was shocked at it’s intensity. For his part, he looked amazing. Leaning against the bar, he was in a sport coat and trousers, sans tie, his shirt unbuttoned at the neck. He had an easy smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He was talking animatedly with someone. A woman. Young. Gorgeous. Perfect.

She reached out to touch his forearm, to drive home her point, or stake her claim, I couldn’t be sure. Tom laughed, his tongue visible between his perfect white teeth and took a sip of his drink.   
I immediately regretted telling him to do as he liked, since obviously, that included doing this girl-woman at some point this evening. My head felt tight and hot and I couldn’t get a breath. I turned and nearly bumped into a server passing champagne.

I took two. “One for me, one for my date,” I lied.

As soon as the server moved on, I downed one flute in a quick gulp and sat it on a side table. It was the Valentine’s Day Massacre all over again, and I was not the best at navigating traumatic flashbacks. The second champagne followed immediately. I placed it on a passing tray and grabbed another.

He doesn’t belong to you.

I know that.

I stood there stupidly, watching their exchange. Every nuance seemed exaggerated to me. She tossed her hair. He stroked his stubble. She leaned in to tell him something softly. He brought his ear to her mouth. She produced a slip of paper. He bit his lip as she slid it into his breast pocket.

I couldn’t look away. Not when she wiggled her fingers at him to say ‘See you later on, Sexy, most likely naked’. Not when she wiggled her ass as she pranced away and he watched from over the rim of his drink.

_He doesn’t belong to you._

_I know that. It’s just…._

_Just what?_

Tom’s eyes locked with mine and he smiled softly. I abruptly turned and went to find the buffet. I grabbed a plate and busied myself with filling it. I inspected the first tray closely, trying to focus on anything other than.. please don’t let him walk over here.

I felt his presence before I felt his touch, soft on my elbow. Taking a choked breath, I closed my eyes.

“You’re here,” he said, his voice low.

“I am,” I turned to face him and smiled, armed with a quip, “I see you’re still the perceptive one, Tommy.”

“Still? It hasn’t been that long, has it?”

_Two and a half weeks. Forever._

“No, not that long,” I smiled then turned to the spread of food and began piling bite sized treats on my plate indiscriminately, anything to busy my hands.

“Hungry tonight?” he eyed the small mountain of food on my plate, “or are you bringing some for your date?”

The word hung in the air, loaded.

“I’m here alone, Tom.”

“Ah. I am as well.”

I bit back the strong urge to comment on the woman hitting on him at the bar. Instead, I took the offensive.

“Well, this is a work event for me.” I sighed, “It’s best for me to go stag. Free to mingle and all that.”

He smiled and exhaled audibly.

_This is so damned awkward._

He cleared his throat and hitched up an eyebrow, “Would you be willing to step outside with me? I’d like to have a word with you in private. I’ll have you back to mingling in no time.”

“Sure. Let me just….” I looked at the plate still in my hand and glanced around for a place to put it.

“Here, allow me,” Tom took the food and, not finding any logical place to set it down, furrowed his brow and chucked it behind a large potted plant.

He led me to a side balcony, and closing the french doors behind him, ran a hand though his hair.

“Thank you for coming out here with me,” he began.

“You’re welcome.”

He smiled uneasily, “So how have you been?”

“Good. Fine. Good.”

“That’s good.”

“And you?” I asked.

“Dreadful.”

“Yeah, me too,” I agreed and before I realized it was out of my mouth, Tom did a double take, grinning at me.

“Is it awful if I say ‘good’?” he asked, his grin widening.

“Yes. It’s horrible,” I laughed and slapped his arm playfully, relieved to feel some of the tension break.

“Ehehehe… I stand by it. I’ve missed you terribly.”

“I missed you, too, Tom.”

He took a step toward me and took both my hands, looking at them, turning them over in his, tracing his thumbs over the blue veins in my wrist.

“I owe you an apology, darling.” he began, “I shouldn’t have projected my fantasies onto you like I did. It was your birthday and I tried to turn it into something that I wanted. I’m sorry.”

“Tom, it was beautiful…”

He brought a finger to my lips to hush me. “I understand now. I still have feelings for you. But I know you don’t reciprocate them…”

“Tom..”

“Please just let me finish. I want to be what you want me to be in your life, in any capacity you’ll allow me. I can’t be without you.”

It was my turn to hush him. “I don’t want to hurt you Tom, I just can’t love like a normal woman, not like you deserve to be loved. It’s not in me anymore. But I can’t bear the thought of breaking your heart. I care about you so much.”

He nodded sadly, his eyes still on my hands,“I understand. I gave you my heart, and you can’t break it. Even if you stick it in that box under your bed,” he grinned.

“How did you…”

He looked up and winked.

I sighed, “Do you think things can ever just go back to the way they were before?”

“Before we started sleeping together or before I ruined it by…”

“You didn’t ruin it, Tom.”

“Before my selfish and unnecessary confession.”

I shook my head, “Before your sweet gesture and confession that I am too damaged to appreciate.”

“Answer the question.”

“What question?” asked.

“Before….” he prompted me.

I smiled and leaned close to him, placing both of my small hands on either side of his face. I held him there, kissing him, taking my time. His hands hovered at my sides, fists clenching. I broke our kiss and looked into his eyes. “Take me home, Tom.”

  
“Oh, darling. I am so glad to hear you say that,” he breathed.

Tom bit his lip, and his eyes darted from the french doors back to me. His eyes glinted with mischief. I knew that look. My Tom wanted to play a game. He began to back me into the shadows to the side, “No, I’m thinking we should fuck right here. When we were last together, I wasted too much time.”

He kissed me, and kept backing me up until we were shielded by a large potted plant. His hot mouth went to my neck, kissing and nibbling.

“I’m going to fuck you right now, up against this wall, with all these people around. Would you like that?” he slid his hand up my inner thigh, “Part your legs, darling.”

I spread my thighs as much as my skirt would allow, “So I’m only going to get quickies now?” I teased.

“It would be a fitting punishment, darling,” his gaze moved to my decolletage, his breathing grew raspy. My chest heaved under his scrutiny. “But I’m not letting you get off that easily.”

He chuckled darkly and I giggled at his appropriate choice of words.

“This dress is inspiring, darling. The second I saw you, I got hard. Did you wear this hoping I would fuck you in some dark corner tonight?”

I groaned lightly, trying to arch my sex into his hand, to speed his ascent to my core.

He stilled. “Tell me, or I’ll stop.”

“Yes, Tom.” I sighed. The moment the words were out of my mouth, I felt their truth. Yet, there was something more, tugging at my consciousness.

Tom held my gaze, one hand under my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. They were dark and feral.

He whispered through clenched teeth,“First, I am going to have you here on this balcony, where anyone could walk in and see us. Then I’m going to fuck you with my fingers all the way back to my flat, with your skirt hitched up and your legs spread in my car. Then when we get to my place, this dress is coming off, probably in pieces, and I’m going to make you scream until the neighbors call the authorities. I’m not going to be done with you until you’re so spent you can’t fucking move.”

Tom’s knuckles grazed my panties, already growing moist. “Mmm.. so wet already. I think you have a bit of an exhibitionistic streak, love. I’m going to exploit that for all it’s worth, I’m warning you.”

“You mean explore.”

He gave me a dirty grin, “No. I definitely mean exploit.”

I dipped my hand to feel his cock fully hard and pressing against his trousers. I laughed softly, “I don’t think I’m the only one, who is enjoying this you’re hard enough to squirt diamonds.”

He cocked his eyebrows burying his face in my ample cleavage, “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It’s does if you think about it. Diamonds are hard and….”

Tom’s hand flew up to my mouth and covered it, muffling me. “You really need to shut up. If you can’t be quiet, I’ll be forced to stuff your mouth full of my cock.”

“Forced?” I muttered from behind his hand “I wouldn’t say forced.”

He put a finger to his lips signaling me to be quiet, and pulled my panties down, grabbing the crotch of them with his fist. He bit his lip and held my gaze, then tossed the knickers carelessly over his shoulder where they fell past the railing and floated to the street below.

I tried not to laugh, “Tom, you just threw my panties off the balcony.”

“That’ll be a nice party favor for one of the guests when they leave.” he smirked.

“You’re bad.” I teased as he began working one finger inside me, slowly pumping in and out, curving to massage my most sensitive spots.

“Ah, but you love me,” he said casually.

“Yes…” I moaned.

Our eyes met.

“I’m sorry. I…” he began.

“It’s fine. Don’t stop,” I said dismissively, grinding against his palm.

He seemed to recover quickly.

“Can it be you feel better than I remember? How long has it been since I’ve been inside you?”

“Two weeks, four days,” I began, thrusting my hips to draw his finger deeper.

“Eleven hours.”

“Eleven hours?”

“Yes. Entirely too long. I’ll never go that long again without..”

“Tom?” I interrupted.

“Yes?”  
  
“You need to shut up, or I’ll be forced to sit on your face.”

He laughed, “Not much of a deterrent frankly. Maybe I should just ..”

He pressed his thumb against my clit, working the slick bud slowly. I was keening quietly, riding his hand.

“I need you inside me, Tom. I want to come around your cock. Please. I’m close.”

My hands wrestled with his belt and trousers, as he slid my skirt up over my hips, his eyes greedily claiming every inch of my body. Grasping his open belt in both my fists, I pulled his hips tight against me. He was losing control, breathing heavily, gripping my thigh roughly to hitch it high on his leg, opening me to him. My high heel clad foot dangled naughtily over him. I thought of the sinful picture we must have made. It spurred my arousal further.

Tom dipped the head of his cocked past my plump outer lips, sliding it along my dripping folds., biting his lip, grunting softly.

“Tom, please..” I arched my back and pressed my hips to him.

“Let me, darling. You’re so wet and warm. What if this is the last time I have you like this? I want to savor it.”

“It won’t be, Tom.”

“No?” he teased.

“You said.. remember? Until I can’t fucking move.”

“Ah, but what if you run again?”

“I won’t..”

He slid his cock against my slit, dragging it up to my throbbing bud. “But what if you do?”

“I won’t Tom, you have me. To do with what you wish.” I inadvertently quoted his letter, then went still, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“Mine.” he moaned, lost in the sensation of teasing himself with my opening..just barely entering and then withdrawing.

“Yours. Fuck me, Tom. Make me yours.”

He thrust into me with a quick punishing stroke. My head banged against the wall. He brought his hand up to cradle it.

“You’ve got me so hard, I’ve been practically cumming in my pants, love. I’m afraid this is going to be quick…and rough.. I’ve needed this so much,” he said. His voice was dark, but his eyes pleading for something.

In answer, I pulled on his belt, grinding my hips against his.

He growled softly and thrust into me again.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” I moved against him, “finish this, Tom. Have at me.”

  
Tom dropped his façade of tight control and pumped into me hard and fast, the sound of our bodies slapping together mixing with out labored breathing in a filthy melody.

“Fuck. Tom. Fuck. I’m close. Bring me off.” I begged, panting.

His fingers claimed my clit once more, this time with less finesse, his urgency making up for his momentary lack of technique. My cunt clutched him tightly as I came, squeezing his cock, repeatedly. The taut contractions forced him into his own ruin. His hand fisted my hair as he filled me, his eyes pressed closed, grunting my name.

His forehead, dotted with sweat, rested lightly against mine. He smiled shakily. “That was..magnificent.”

I was suddenly hyper-aware of the situation, and more so , the implications of what I had said while begging him to fuck me. My voice was a tad sharp. “It was, yes.”

He righted himself, tucking his shirt back in and closing his trousers. I shimmied my dress back into place.

My throat felt tight. Did I just confess I had feelings for him? Did he notice or was he too far gone?

_Do I have feelings for Tom?_

Extending a hand, he lightly grasped my fingers and brought them to his mouth, placing a chaste kiss. He winked, “Let’s get my car. You and I, we have more promises to keep tonight.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and OFC have reached a workable agreement. Sort of.

Tom and I made good on our promises from that night. We fucked each other into sweet oblivion on an almost daily basis. He didn’t broach the subject of his feelings for me. Each time my fight or flight instinct kicked in, I stayed. Sometimes shaking from the effort, but I didn’t run from him.

After the night we spent in his flat where he indeed ripped my cocktail dress from my body, clawing at the straps until they gave way, Tom escorted me home. It had been days and he hadn’t left to return to his place, save for a single trip to gather some clothing and other essentials.

“You’re like a sweet little stray pup who’s followed me home,” I had teased him.

He had bitten his lip and growled at me, crawling over my body, tickling my ribs.

“I only ended up here because I was chasing this kitty,” he had joked, squeezing me where my thighs met, his hand over my jeans.

I had sighed, content, “Likely story. I think I’ll keep you for my own.”

“I’d like that,” he had whispered. Then dipping his head, he raised my t-shirt to press open-mouthed kisses down my belly.

It was the closest I had come to telling him that I might love him.

 _Might_ was the word that troubled me, it kept me up each night, watching Tom’s face as he slept beside me. I memorized each freckle, each line, every pore, hoping that they would spell out an answer. I was certain of Tom worthiness. However, I was much less certain of my ability to house the feeling. He always slept deeply, breathing deep and even. I memorized his face at rest, words swirling around my head.

_I might love you, Tom._

_Maybe I love you, Tom._

_But I’m destroyed inside, broken, and I can’t talk about how or why. You could get a better, more sound, love, from someone else._

_Why are you still here, Tom?_

_I need to know._

_I might love you._

I wrestled with this, sacrificing my sleep to hash out these questions. Each morning, I rose from bed exhausted, without answers.

I threw myself into finishing up my novel, and Tom prepared for his next role. We worked in tandem, separately, falling into an easy routine. Breakfasts together, time with me in my office and him on the sofa, his script in hand, making notes. Lunches out and in, eaten at my small dinette, on the sofa while each of us continued toiling at our craft, and more than occasionally in bed, where our lunch lasted most of the afternoon and work was forgotten for awhile. Nights together. _Dear god, the nights…_

I sat opposite Tom on my sofa, in the same corners we did the night he cajoled me into playing Truth or Dare. He was still intently studying his script, looking dangerously fine in sweat pants and a threadbare tee, his feet naked. I was curled in my usual place, bare legs tucked under me, my casual dress bunched high on my thighs.

I was reading the paper, skimming the reviews of novels I wished I had written. I heard Tom shift in his seat.

Looking over the top of the paper at him, I watched as he traced his mouth with his index finger, then stopped, writing a note in the margin. Apparently satisfied with what he had written, he popped the end of the pen between his teeth. I watched as he flicked the pen with his tongue, then returned it to the script, jotting more notes.

_Is this what life with Tom would be like? Could I be happy with this?_

_You’re happy now._

I tried the unsaid statement out in my head.

_I love you, Tom._

“What’s that, love?” he turned his head toward me.

“I didn’t say anything.”

He returned to the script. I folded up my paper and tossed it on the carpet. Chewing on my lower lip, I slyly worked my bare foot into his lap. He rubbed his large hand down the top of my foot, and let it rest at the ankle, tracing the lines of bone with his fingertips. His eyes stayed at their task, learning lines. Every few moments he would pause and scribble another notation. He tapped the pen on my toes playfully, distractedly even, before running the hard end of the pen up the arch of my foot, causing me to try and retract my leg, squealing . He smiled, held my ankle against his thigh and continued working.

It was easy, effortless.

Could life with Tom be effortless? If I find the strength to lay myself bare to him, would things become convoluted, cursed?

With his eyes on his work, I felt free to watch him, the way he often watched me. I allowed my gaze to roam over his form, not concerned with how my glance could be interpreted. He scratched the side of his neck and his fingers lingered, dipping inside shirt, absently stroking his shoulder and clavicle. He brought his hand slowly down the front of his shirt, and traced the top of my foot once more. The fluid movement was dripping with sensual familiarity. I couldn’t keep my foot from reflexively pressing against his resting cock.

The skin around his eyes seized and he cleared his throat.

“Tom?”

“Mmmm?” his eyes didn’t leave his task.

My toes curled against his thigh. “When we were apart, you missed me, yes?”

“Like I was struggling for air.”

One corner of my mouth raised in a cheeky smirk.

“How did you miss me?”

He scribbled on the script, then repeated my question, confused,“ How did I miss you?”

“In what sense did you miss me? What did you miss about me?” I pressed my foot against his sleeping cock again, taking pains to be quite deliberate.

His tongue traced the inside of his cheek and he grinned. He was on to me.

“Oh,” he began, “I suppose I missed sitting together like this, relaxing.”

“Yes?”

“I missed laughing together, and the way you tilt your chin when you try to be intimidating, but just come off as adorable.”

“Is that all?”

“No,” he pronounced the word carefully, drawing it out. He made another notation in his script.

I pressed against him once more, this time taking care to run the arch of my foot up his hardening length.

He bit back a smile. I didn’t often tease him, and he was enjoying this.

“Tom.”

“Yes, darling?”

“Look at me.”

He raised his head just in time to see me slowly cross one leg over the other. His gaze flickered over my bare legs hungrily before meeting my gaze and adopting a casual tone, “What is it, love?”

I slowly crawled to him. He pulled me onto his lap, sitting on one toned thigh. Palming his jaw gently, I tilted his face to meet mine. “I missed you desperately.”

Locking eyes for a long moment, I stroked his neck.

_I’m in love with you._

_I always have been._

My throat wanted to constrict and my eyes got heated, the simple truth of that statement hit me hard in the solar plexus, robbing me of my breath. I searched his eyes, looking for a safe place there. Somewhere I can kneel down and confess.

Coming up empty, I brought our lips together, taking my time tasting his mouth. One hand cupped the fleshy part of my hip, not grabbing, just holding me there, my legs draped over him, stretched out onto the sofa.

The kiss ran it’s course naturally, and we parted, his eyes questioning, my own calm. He opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut, thinking better of it. Something shifted in his eye, he grinned.

“So, darling, when we were apart and you were missing me,” he cleared his throat, “did it inspire any particular … course of action?”

I laughed lightly. “I’m afraid I was too bereft.”

“That is a damn shame.”

“What about you?”

“Hmmm? I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do.” I placed my hand at the back of his head, curling my fingers in his hair. I pulled him toward my mouth and whispered into his ear, “Did you stroke your cock and think of me?”

His hips pressed into my thigh, his erection grinding against the bare flesh. He was obviously very aroused, but his voice stayed steady. “A time or two, yes. I felt sort of guilty about it after….”

“Why should you?” I cut him off as my finger toyed with his ear lobe. I didn’t want to think about that night, and certainly not now, “ Besides, twice? In two and a half weeks? That’s hardly….”

“Oh, I thought you were asking me how many times per day.”

I tossed my head back and laughed genuinely, the slid my hands under the neck of his shirt smiling, “Well, then yes. That’s very naughty.”

Tom’s tongue darted up to moisten his lips. His voice became low and breathy, “Yes, it was.”

“What did you think about?” I dipped my head to place kisses on his neck, moving from his jaw to the vein that ran down the side, before licking my way up passing, over his Adam’s apple. His head dropped back, giving me clear access to do as I liked, reveling in the feel of my mouth on him. My hand moved to cup his balls through his sweatpants, and dragging my palm upward, I applied pressure on the length of his cock. I repeated the motion. Cup, press, stroke. Slowly.

He arched his hips, craving more from my hand. “I .. uh.. thought about how beautiful you are when you’re naked.”

“Yes?”

“And how tight … oh god.. and wet you feel around me when I’m fucking you.”

“Anything else?” I was stroking faster now, twisting at the tip, working with his rhythm ask he thrust into my hand while still completely clothed.

“Yes. Your mouth.”

“What about it?”

“On me.” he gritted.

“Where, Tom? Where do you like my mouth?”

“Fuck.” his jaw was clenched. “On my cock.”

I stopped stroking, causing him to exhale a breath I didn’t know he was holding. “God, you’re going to make me cum in my pants.”

“Is that what you think?” I asked as I made my way to my knees on the floor between his splayed thighs. I tugged on the waistband of his pants and removed them. His cock stood proud and purple with arousal. He was hard and hot and bigger than I had ever seen during our shared history.

I looked up at him, his face raw and needful. We are sharing this moment together, I thought, Tom and me, and it’s fucking beautiful. “You’re gorgeous, Tom. You do know that. Right? I love y..” I paused then quickly recovered, “your cock.”

Something flickered behind his eyes. “Show me.”

I flattened my tongue and licked him slowly from base to tip, flicking my tongue over his glistening slit. I sucked at the opening, drawing the dripping fluid into my mouth. I moaned. It was not for show. He tasted delicious.

I followed the trail again, maintaining eye contact. His gaze was heated but restrained. With jaw tight and nostrils flared, his breath was coming in uneven huffs. He opened and closed his fists at his side.

I dropped further down to lap at his balls, and as I traced the lower curve of the sack with a pink pointed tip, they drew up tight against him, the skin seizing. I gently took one in my mouth, rolling my tongue against it and sucking lightly. Next the other. Tom’s expression looked almost pained, one eyebrow hitched up, his mouth forming a small oval.

I returned to stroking his shaft with a loose fist, laving at his sack, hungrily nipping at the skin with just my lips.

“Oh, fuck. Darling..”

I arched both brows and rubbed my nose against his flesh there, snaking my tongue beneath, flicking the hot, hairless skin there.

Tom bucked his hips into my hand and I raised my head to cover his cock with my mouth, teasing him first by rubbing against my slack lower lip.

“Please, love. You’re killing me..”

Tensing my fist around his girth, I formed a tight seal around my lips and slid down his length as far as I could. Rising back up, I hollowed out my cheeks sucking his cock, swirling my tongue around the crown. I maintained a rhythm, sliding up and down, intent on drawing out his hot cum.

“Oh my god!” Tom’s fists tangled to my hair, his neck tight and veiny, jaw clamped shut. “I’m close. I’m so close. Fuck. So close,” he spat out.  
My free hand went to his balls, cradling them, two fingers drifting lower, to tease that secret spot. I began crooking them hither, coaxing him toward his release.

Once more his hips bucked, and this time with a guttural, incoherent moan, his body tightened and he spilled into my mouth. His taste was salty and sweet and unmistakably unique to him. I drank him like a woman dying of thirst until he was spent.

I placed a small kiss on the underside of his cock, then returned to my place -my place- in his lap. Tom wrapped an arm around me and exhaled completely, still wide-eyed, staring at the ceiling.

“Wow.”

“Just like you fantasized about.” I teased.

“A thousand times more amazing.”

I allowed my fingers to trace his as they rested at my hip, my head tucked in the crook between his neck and shoulder. My place.

Now was as good a time as any.

I opened my lips to speak, but Tom spoke instead.

“So, you know something about me now.. what I think about. Now you tell me.” he paused and crooked his neck to see my face, “Do you think about me when you….”

“All the time.”

“Well, I told you my fantasy.”

“It wasn’t exactly shocking Tom.”

“Ehehehe, I suppose not. And your fantasy is?”

I could hear the curiosity in his voice even before I lifted my head and saw it. “I wouldn’t say shocking. More like..um..specific to my kinks.”

He gave me a mischievous smile. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know. It’s sort of embarrassing.”

“You can trust me. You know you can tell me anything. We’ve been together.. er.. sleeping together for how long? I want to know.”

He playfully pinched my ass. I watched his face: hopeful, interest peaked, eager to misbehave. I considered stopping this in it’s tracks, and decided against it. If we were going to go forward from this, all my walls had to come down.

“I’ve never told anyone before, Tom…. but I’ll trust you on this, alright? I just want you to know it’s pretty scary for me.”

“Okay.” he nipped at my neck, “now tell me.”

I cleared my throat. “In my fantasy, I walk into a dark room.”

“Okay.”

“And your back is to me..and you’re wearing a suit with the tie loose and shirt unbuttoned.”

“Should I run out and get changed and come back?” he joked, trying to ease my discomfort.

I slapped him lightly on the belly, causing him to laugh. He caught my wrist in his fingers and brought it to his mouth kissing my palm. “Go on.”

“I can tell by the way you’re breathing and how your body is moving that you’re..”

“Wanking.”

“For lack of a better word.”

“I walk to stand in front of you and as you see me you pump your cock even harder.”

“Hold on. So what you’re saying is that when you touch yourself, you imagine me rubbing one out. That’s what gets you off?”

“What?”

One corner of his mouth went up in a half-smile. “It’s just… flattering, and frankly… pretty fucking hot.” His stiffening cock backed up his sentiment, pressing against me from below my thigh.

“Well, there’s more..” I stared at his neck, and watched him swallow audibly.

“Oh?”

I forced myself to raise my eyes to meet his. No more walls. “That’s when I start to tease you.”

Tom let out a broken breath. “How?” he whispered.

“Well, I …”

“No. Don’t tell me. Stand up.”

“Tom, I don’t know…”

“Let me do this for you. Stand up. Tease me.”

I stood in front of him awkwardly, ready to bolt. I felt exposed, at loose ends. My gaze dropped to his lap, where his hand was lazily stroking his cock. Then I met his eyes. He raised his brows and bit his lip. He was waiting. He greedily raked his gaze down my body, leering at me. I felt heat pooling between my legs.

_Okay, I am going to do this._

“I knew I’d find you here, like this,” I began, saying aloud for the first time words I had imagined over and over, “I’ve seen the way you look at me. Undressing me, fucking me with your eyes. Did you really think I hadn’t noticed? Tell me, did I make you this hard?”

“Yes..” he breathed.

“Mmmm. I bet you get off all the time thinking about me, don’t you?”

“Yes.” his voice was getting tighter.

“Yes. You do, you dirty boy. And here I’ve caught you, with your hands all over your cock, this is so, so bad,” I chided him.

“Maybe I should lift my skirt for you and let you slip that inside my tight, wet pussy. Would you like that?”

“Fuck yes.”

“I don’t know.” I mused “ Wouldn’t that be wrong? Here, I’ve just walked in on you, I don’t belong to you Tom. You can’t have me.”

Tom groaned and closed his eyes, his hand moving at a strong rhythm.

My breath had quickened, a flush creeping over my face and chest. I was sharing my dirtiest thoughts with him. I felt bare, flayed open. But also unfettered and somehow safe. I upped the ante.

“Hmmm…I wonder.”

He opened his eyes, grinding his teeth.

“Maybe I should just..” I slipped one strap of my dress off my shoulder, then the other, the dress fell to my full hips, staying bunched there. My full breasts exposed, nipples begging for his mouth, his hands. “I bet you’ve imagined this, haven’t you? Seeing my breasts?”

I reached up to cup them and roll my nipples against my thumbs. “Do you like them, Tom? Aren’t the lovely?”

“Fucking God. Yes. They’re perfect.” His eyes were rapt, watching the progress of my hands.

“Would you like to feel?”

“Yes.” he reached out to pull me toward him. I slapped his hand sharply away. “No Tom, you can’t. That would be bad. You wouldn’t make me be bad would you?”

“Fuck, darling. Please.”

“Is this hard for you, Tom? To see what you think about, what you’ve cum thinking about, without being able to touch it? Hmmm.. I wonder.” I tapped my lip with my fingertip, “Maybe I could… can you hold very still and be a good boy?”

I stepped between his thighs, his hand still working his cock and leaned over him. I brushed my breast against his stubbled cheek. “Feel how soft? Would you like a taste?”

He opened his mouth in answer. I teased his lips with my nipple, staying just out of his reach, pulling back just as he opened his mouth to taste me. His hand went to my back to pull me toward him, his mouth closing around it and suckling roughly.

“Tom! Stop that or I’ll scream!” I pushed myself away from him. “You can’t touch me, Tom. If you try I’ll tell everyone what you’re making me do.”

I looked down his body and chewed on my lower lip. I took in his heaving chest, still clothed in the t-shirt, his long bare legs. His magnificent cock jutted up from his lap, his long fingered hand stroking it madly. I was dying to slip off my panties and slide down hard onto it, but I was enjoying the my low inhibitions for once, and didn’t want to stop playing this game, not yet.

“Oh Tom, you’re going to make me be bad, aren’t you? I slowly slid my skirt up my thighs revealing my sex, and my soaked-through knickers.

“Do you think about seeing my tight little pussy.?”

Tom was beyond words. He grunted in response, biting his bottom lip with the all of his front teeth, his eyes locked onto my cunt.

“Take them off.” he gritted “I’m going to have you, you little slut.”

I slid both the dress and panties off my hips, kicking them away. “You can’t have me Tom. All you can do is watch. If you touch me I’ll tell and everyone will know..”

I stood with my legs slightly apart, and let my hand find its way to my sex. “I want you to look at my pussy, Tom. See how pink, how pretty..” I spread my plump outer lips. “Look Tom. Look how wet you’ve made me. I”m so tight too, Tom. Your cock would stretch me.”

Tom’s hips bucked. “Darling, I…”

I moved to stand over his lap, his cock almost touching my cunt. “Mmm.. I bet that would feel delicious.” I brushed my labia against the head of his cock. He reached for me with one hand, the other holding his cock straight preparing to impale me.“No. We can’t.”

He moaned. “Please..”

“Begging won’t help. You like to beat off to me. So do it.”

Tom groaned and went back to stroking his cock.

“Tom, I wonder, would you like to watch me play with my tight little pussy? It’s the least I could do, and as long as I don’t let myself cum, I suppose it’s not so wrong.”

“Yes…please.”

“Oh that’s lovely. “ I lay down on the sofa next to him and hitched one thigh over the back , one leg draped onto the floor, spreading my legs very wide. “Watch me, Tom.” I dipped my fingers into my cunt and dragged them, wet, onto my clit, stroking it and swirling it around under the pads of my fingers. Tom set his jaw at an angle, his bottom teeth bared. His hand never stopped moving on his cock. His eyes didn’t leave my hot, pink center, following the small movements of my fingers.

“Tom, I wonder if you would like a taste of my pussy,” I purred.  
  
He immediately dropped his cock and started for my sex, ready to press his face between my thighs, starving. I snapped my legs shut. “Tom, I’m shocked. You can’t put your face there. It isn’t yours. Here. Stay very still.”

Tom was leaning over me, his cock inches from my pussy. I dipped my two fingers into my dripping warmth and brought them to his lips. “Hold still.” I traced the thin curve of his bottom lip with my fluid, then removed my hands, dipping them between my legs again. He drew his bottom lip into his mouth and sucked, groaning. For a few moments we were silent, him still rubbing his length, watching me under him, working my clit, breathing roughly.

He broke the silence. “Let me have you, you little cock tease.”

“No, Tom, but…. I wonder if you like to cum on me. Would you like that? To come on my belly. Mark me up?”

“Fuck yes…”

I moaned. I felt my release quickly approaching, my womb tensing and my breath coming fast. Speaking rapid nonsense, I was keening, wanton, “Oh, God Tom, you’ve got me so desperate to cum. I don’t know if I can stop. I can’t believe you’re making me do this! I can’t .. I have to.. oh, god, this is so wrong….” My mind was racing, finishing the out the scenario, Tom, pushing me down, claiming me, making me his, stretching me with his cock, slamming into me. Chanting, ‘You’re mine. You’re mine.’

But, I couldn’t find the breath to say it aloud.

My orgasm hit me hard, causing my thighs to tighten and shake. My cunt spasmed and I felt fluid pulsing, leaking down my folds. I arched my back, pressing my breasts against him, tossing my head back. “Fuck! Tom!”

Watching me come apart just centimeters under him caused Tom to meet his release, groaning obscenities. I felt his body tighten, then opened my eyes to see long spurts of cum shooting onto my stomach, splatting over my tits, dripping down my neck. The sight was heady, and filthy. I was transfixed. He bowed his head to watch as well, muttering “oh fuck, oh, fuck, oh fuck.” before collapsing onto me, smearing his warm fluid between us.

I felt giddy. Tom had drawn me out, and true to his word, had been there for me, playing along with my dirty masturbation fantasy. This was what life with him would be like, love, acceptance, laughter, sex. I could just whisper it now and ask him.

_I know how badly I fucked up, Tom. Please, would you still have me as yours?_

“Hey,” I began, “Thank you. That was really special for me. I’ve never even told anyone about it, let alone had someone offer to act it out with me. Thank you.”

He lifted his head wearily, “It was my pleasure. I knew you were much a much filthier girl than you were letting on. It’s what I like about you.” he smiled, “now we’ll just see if I can ever walk again.”

  
He rested his head against my breast. I kissed his forehead. “If you can’t, you can just stay right here.”

I didn’t tell Tom I loved him that morning, finding it impossible to just blurt out. When he confessed his true feelings for me, he went to great lengths to make it an amazing evening. The least I could do was get some wine and candles.

Tom left for some appointments early that afternoon after a post coital nap and a shared shower. I slept soundly for the first time in days and awoke with a plan. Tom, in my flat tonight. Where it all started.

“Dinner will be at 8:30.” I told him at the door, as he was leaving.

“Sounds good,” he said , leaning down to give me a quick peck on the lips. I reached to pull him in for a french kiss, but he pulled back a hair, deciding instead to nuzzle my nose and give me a chaste smooch. “See you at 8:30,” he said, and walked into the hallway.

I closed the door and set my plan in motion, headed straight for the ill-fated box under my bed. The charms were still in there, and as I fished around my jewelry box, I found a simple silver chain to string them on. I slipped it over my head. The charms rested between my breasts. At my heart. My heart with his label above it. _Tom’s._

I didn’t over-analyze any of it, just threw together a sauce for pasta, and choose some wine. I set the dinette table with two place settings and a few candles, then dressed myself in a soft off the shoulder sweater and slim pants, the charm necklace was my secret, tucked under my top, ready for me to reveal at the perfect moment.

A wave of sadness washed over me as I realized how excited I was anticipating tonight, I knew that Tom had been at least this excited, probably more so the night I rebuffed him. I said a silent prayer of thanks that I hadn’t lost him forever and vowed to start making it up to him this evening, even if it took forever.

The intercom buzzed. I checked the clock. Tom was a few minutes early. I took a deep breath and steadied myself, as I buzzed him up.

He was at my door in no time, in casual dress: black cardigan, white tee, jeans. I was surprised by his choice, given his tendency to overdress when we had dinner, but he looked amazing.

“Hey,” I said quietly.

“Hey.” he kissed my cheek and smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Come in,” I invited, although, small as my flat was, he was for all intents and purposes standing in the middle of my living room.

“Can I get you something to drink? Jameson? Wine?”

“No thanks.”

“Is something going on, Tom?” I sat on the sofa, he remained standing, his eyes looking everywhere but me.

He worried his hands together and rubbed the front of his thighs, still standing, looking like a huge caged animal in the small room.

“I can’t stop thinking about this morning,” he began.

“Neither can I,” I smiled. The feeling of being bare to him was still fresh, and the memory was intoxicating.

He gave a pained smile and huffed lightly. “I’ve been thinking about some of the things that were said, and the truth is..”

“Yes?” the hair on my neck stood up. Something was not right here.

“The truth is that this isn’t healthy. For either of us.”

“I thought we had fun, It was a fantasy, Tom.”

Tom shook his head. “It was a metaphor for our relationship. I desire you, crave you, need you to function. You hold yourself always just out of my reach. Offering me everything I need, then telling me I can’t have it”

“No, it’s not like that. There was more to the fantasy. We just finished before…”

Tom cut me off. “I’ve tried to give you what you want, meaningless sex, fucking you senseless and then staying here and playing house..”

“What?!? Tom! Stop this!”

“…but I can’t pretend to be something I’m not. I’m not an automaton. I feel things. I..I.. can’t see you anymore.”

I felt like I had been punched. I looked at him, his eyes pink. This was killing him. He didn’t want this, but the felt it was the only choice.

“I’m not an automaton,” I said quietly.

“You call it what you like. I can’t wait for you to manufacture a genuine emotion for me. I’m sorry. I should go.”

“Tom don’t do this….”

He turned to the door, I was on my feet in an instant, my hands wrapped around his arm, “Tom! Don’t do this. Please!”

I tried to find the words to make him stop, make him see that I could feel the genuine emotion he needed me to. That I did feel it already, without any ultimatum. But the speech I had prepared for him was obsolete now.

He pulled his arm away from me, turning the door knob, opening the door. He was the one running. From me. I deserved this. I had to make him stop, make him see. “Tom. Wait. I… I.. made pasta.”

He stopped at the door, not turning around, his head dropped. “Put it in plastic for tomorrow’s lunch. Good-bye. I’m sorry.”

The door closed quietly. I clutched at the necklace between my breasts. “Good-bye. Tom. I love you.” I sobbed aloud. I half expected him to rush back in and pick me off the floor, peppering me with kisses and apologies. I waited there, legs curled, crying until the pasta became a cold mass and the candles flickered out. He didn’t come back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom stops by one last time to retrieve his belongings.

_Dear Tom,_

  
_I’m not very good at writing love letters, just as I am not very good at most things involving love. I can only think to put pen to paper and try to make sense of all I am feeling as I scribble it down. I do know this: I am in love with you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it when you were in my flat that night. The entire scene was like a traffic accident. I was frozen in horror, and couldn’t look away to react properly._

  
_Just know that the very day I reconciled to_ _the fact that I was in love with you, I planned to tell you. I only waited so I could make it an event, like you had for me._

  
_Please, Tom. I am waiting here for you…_

I crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the waste basket, along with a dozen or so other notes I had written in the three days since Tom walked out of my apartment. I would eventually find words to explain what I was feeling - I was a career writer for Christ’s sake - but I needed to do more than articulate what had happened. I needed to make Tom come back.

  
My manuscript languished on my desk. I had not gone to work on anything since the door had closed that evening. I had even left the dinette table set as it was until the next morning, when, crying and dripping snot unchecked, I scraped the remnants of the congealed food into the trash and tossed the candle stubs. The wine I had opened to share with Tom, toasting our love, had soured. I poured it unceremoniously down the kitchen sink. Talk about a metaphor.

  
I had put on my bathrobe like a shroud for mourning and waited for the pleasant numbness to set in. I sat shiva staring out the window, only getting up to eat when hunger pangs became more intense than the feeling of loss, fixing crackers and jelly with black tea for most of my meals, then always returning to my chair overlooking the street below.

  
As much as I anxiously awaited the numbness, it just wouldn’t come. I wrote letter after letter, each time throwing them away, knowing that as much as I had to make Tom run back to me, there was no combination of magic words that would make it so.

  
I was painfully aware of the karmic implications of what was happening. I had warned Tom that I was broken inside that first night, even before our first kiss. He had done his level best to circumnavigate all my barriers, and I had rebuffed him. He tried to meet me where I had wanted, in an emotionally stunted pseudo-relationship and in the process, he had become wounded. Scratch that, I had broken him like I had been broken.   
The pain knowing that was worse than the pain of being the one damaged.

  
Tom had left his script on the table next to the sofa. The pen that he had used for notetaking still sat dormant on it. The pen that had been in his mouth. I picked up the script and read his notes repeatedly, ran my fingers over his handwriting, put the pen between my teeth in a strange attempt at intimacy. Walking over to the window, I sat with the script held to my breast, turning the pen in my fingers. I wished for the numbness now more fervently than ever. Anything - nothing - would be better than this feeling.

  
This was the feeling I had built a fortress around myself to guard against. I had been so worried about letting a man in to hurt me. In the end, it was by refusing Tom entry that I had hurt myself. Worse, I had passed my curse onto him, the man I had belatedly realized I loved.

  
The realization ripped another sob from my chest and I stayed there with it, red-faced and unable to catch a breath until my crying abated. That out of the way, it was time for more tea and more sitting, my entire daily agenda.

  
I couldn’t bring myself to remove the silver chain holding the charms, even while knowing it didn’t matter if I wore it or not. My heart already bore Tom’s name and stuffing the physical evidence of it under my bed would do little to alter that fact. If anything, it was the finality of doing so that I couldn’t deal with. If I took of the charms, it really was over. So they sat there, limp between my breasts, getting heavier as each day passed.  
It really was over, anyway. As sure as I was that Tom would run back into my flat before he reached the end of the hallway that night, I was equally as certain he would show up at my door next morning, with eyes pink-rimmed and watery from crying and flowers to mend the fences. When that didn’t happen, I was positive I’d get a call, a text, something. Anything to at least check on me, to send a sort of missive letting me know we were continuing in some sense.

  
Nothing. For three days. I knew it wasn’t because he was giving me the space he thought I needed. He had to be away from me this time around, to heal from his time with me, The Woman Unable To Love, at least until it was too late.

  
I was lost in the labyrinth of my mind, getting more and more potently and tragically poetic as each hour passed when my phone alerted me to a text. I had ignored most of them since taking to my chair, but when three arrived in quick succession, I figured I should reply. I didn’t need my mother sending the police over to see if I was still alive, her only logical conclusion if I didn’t reach her back within a hour or so of trying to contact me.

  
I picked up my phone, feeling hassled at being pulled from my reverie of self-loathing, and read the alert.

  
Three texts. All from Tom.

  
_-I left some things at your place that I need. Can I come by and pick them up?-_

  
_-I could send Luke if you don’t want to see me. I can certainly understand. What time is good for you?-_

  
_-I’ll have him stop by later today. If you’re not there, just leave them in a box outside your door. How are you?-_

  
I didn’t answer his last pointless question. Fuck him and his manners if he thought tacking on a ‘how are you’ to this one-way conversation would make it easier to swallow.

  
_-Don’t send Luke. I’m here all day. You can come collect your things whenever.-_

  
I hit send and tossed my phone carelessly onto the sofa a few feet away, not wanting it near me. It didn’t ping again.

  
It was late afternoon when the intercom buzzed. I didn’t make myself ready for Tom. It hardly mattered what I looked like to him at this point, and I wouldn’t demean myself by getting tarted up to try and seduce a man who had literally walked away with me begging for him to stay.

  
I buzzed him up and unlocked the door, then walked back to my new favorite chair. I didn’t meet him when he came in, or even turn to greet him, preferring not to see his face.

  
"Hello?" he opened the door and poked his head in.

  
"I boxed up what I knew was yours. It’s on the table." I tried to make my voice steady, then taking a breath, waved my hand dismissively, "You can take a turn around the place and see if I missed anything."

  
"Right." I didn’t hear him move. I knew all his mannerisms. Familiarity comes with that gift, or curse, I guess, depending on your point of view. I knew he was standing there looking pained and helpless, with his damned soulful eyes, his brow lifted, more than likely chewing on his lip, his long arms hanging useless at his side. I clamped my eyes shut, willing myself to hold off on crying until he left.

  
_Just get through this and when he closes the door for for the last time, you can cry as much as you want. You can spend the rest of your natural life crying. Just don’t do it in front of him._

  
We were both silent and still for a few beats. At last I heard him walking, and rummaging through the box.

  
"It’s all here," he said.

  
"Alright then."

  
"I needed the script, mainly."

  
"I figured." _Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry._

  
"You okay?"

  
"Fucking fabulous, Tom. What does it look like?" My voice quivered.

_Fuck._

  
He was behind me in three steps, placing one large, warm hand on my shoulder. “Hey..”

  
I was fast losing the battle to hold in my emotions in his presence. I let out a shaky breath.

  
"Well, if there’s nothing else you need, then…" I trailed off. He’s got to get out of here before I lose it.

  
"Right." he said again, but didn’t move.

  
I focused on my breathing.

  
"Listen, about the other night…." he started.

  
I stood up and whirled around on him, “What about it, Tom? We both know I deserved it for a multitude of reasons,” I yelled, and gestured wildly, waving my hands, “I am without feeling! How did you put it? An automaton. So save your fucking pity! It won’t even reach me. Just. Fucking. Stop.”

  
"We’re back at this again?" he yelled back, surprising me. "Always telling me what I can say, what I am allowed to feel! I tell you I want you to have my heart..’just. fucking. stop, Tom!’ I tell you I can’t be part of an unhealthy relationship…’stop this right now, tom.’ I try to talk about what happened… ‘just. fucking. stop, Tom!’ I have never in my entire life met someone as closed of, as controlling, as you!"

  
"You’re right," I replied. "I am closed off and controlling. But guess what else? I’m cynical, and jaded and sarcastic and destroyed inside. Damaged goods, Tom. So what? I fucking earned these scars, and I have a right to them."

  
"Everyone has scars. It’s how you move on from them that matters."  
"Not scars like mine." I crossed my arms defiantly.

  
"Who hurt you? Tell me. Because I know that all this," he waved his hand vaguely toward me, "isn’t because of what I did."

  
"I can’t talk about it."

  
"Why not? You can trust me."

"Oh, can I? Like I trusted you when you drew me out the last time we fucked, Thomas?" I stalked toward him, causing him to back up, "You’re all … ‘Tell me, you can trust me’… then things get a little intense, and what happened? You abused my trust, Tom. You used it against me."

  
"I did no such thing!"

  
"What would you call it?"

  
"Drawing accurate parallels."

  
I ran my fingers through my hair in exasperation, tugging at the roots. “Fuck! You!” I screamed, “Jesus Christ, So I get off on the idea of you wanting me, and teasing you. Big fucking deal! At least I masturbate to something original. Its a damn shame you came so soon and then bolted, Tom. The second half of the fantasy was even better.” I did my best to look condescending.

  
"Oh, my God!" he yelled, "Is everything a fucking game to you? Every conversation? What do you think you are winning by being a sarcastic bitch?"

  
"Get. Out." My voice was low and deadly.

  
"No."

  
"Why? You left before so easily. Do it, we both know you can."

  
"It was a mistake," he said softly.

  
"Fuck off."

  
"Hear me out."

  
"Why?"

  
He let out a slow breath and ran his hand through his curls. “Because I’m asking you to.”

  
I turned to face the window, but didn’t press him to leave. He took it as my assent for him to continue.

  
"What we have here, whatever you and I are doing, isn’t healthy. You can’t deny that. I can’t be a party to whatever this is, even if I want to so badly. Even as my heart is breaking from biting my tongue until it bleeds every time I want to tell you I love you, every time I think of bringing you flowers, or .. hell ..want to make love to you instead of fucking you hard up against a building at a party. Not that that wasn’t amazing."

  
"Make your point, Tom."

  
He sighed, “I want it all. All of you, not just bits and pieces. I left because I can’t settle for the crumbs from your table.”

  
I gave up on holding back my tears, they ran in rivulets down my flushed cheeks.

  
"I’m not going to lie to you, I came to get my things today and be done with all of this. But neither of us are happy. I know I’m a fucking mess, and darling, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look terrible."

  
I choked out a tearful laugh.

  
"Please," he said, a simple plea.

  
"I’m cynical and closed off, Tom. Jaded."

  
"Yes. I know that."

  
"Sarcastic."

  
"I’m aware."

  
"A bitch."

  
"Occasionally, yes."

  
"I’m completely broken inside. You don’t know…"

  
"Tell me. Then I’ll know."

  
I brought a shaking hand up to shield my eyes. I knew if I refused to tell him he would walk, citing his reasons. I just didn’t know if I could talk about it.

  
_Fuck. Here’s goes._

  
"Before we met, there was someone else…" I began.

  
"Of course."

  
"Just." I paused, ready to tell him to fucking stop, but thought better of it, "please don’t talk. If you want to hear the sad little tale of my broken heart, you need to understand that i need to tell it as quickly as possible, before I lose my nerve."

  
I didn’t wait for him to reply, I just continued, “He was a very charming man. Handsome. Big romantic gestures. But he wasn’t very kind to me. I was too young to recognize the signs until after the elopement.”

  
I heard Tom exhale.

  
"Almost immediatley after we wed, he started being more…purposeful in his unkindness. He was brilliant at it, and brilliant at not getting caught."

Tom’s voice was barely above a whisper, “He used force against you.”  
"In a sick way, that would have been preferable. More validating. No, he never left a mark on me. Listen, I’ve worked through this, and learned from it, so…." I took a deep breath, "It all culminated one Valentine’s evening, I was still deep in the throes of love with him, even with everything that had happened up to that point. I decided to make a .. romantic night for him… to seduce him. I… uh.. made reservations for us at a restaurant. We were to meet at the bar. He arrived before me. I saw him talking to another woman. Young. Blond. Perfect. I was outraged at first, but was quickly talked down. He was so good at confusing me…" my words broke off.

  
"What happened?"

  
"He told me that what he really wanted for Valentine’s Day was this woman, in bed with him and me. I was hurt, but recovered. ‘You know me,’ I said, ‘Up for anything’"

  
"Darling.."

  
I kept going, ignoring him, “It could have been fun and sexy under the right circumstances, but he made sure it was humiliating for me from start to finish. Please don’t make me talk about how.”

  
"Oh." Tom sighed sadly.

  
I was crying again, the tears flowing alongside my words. “It was the end for me.”

  
"You left him."

  
"That’s the thing, Tom. I didn’t. It was the end of me as I had been, in my mind I see myself as two versions: the girl before that night, and the woman after. But I recovered from it and made excuses. I didn’t leave. Not until almost every spark in my was completely snuffed out. Not for another two years."

  
"Two years?" his voice was strained now, I couldn’t look at him, for fear he was crying along with me. I couldn’t see that. Not right now.

  
"Leaving was the bravest and most terrifying thing I ever did in my life. He didn’t make it easy on me. But I did it." I smiled weakly, then turned to face him finally. "See? I’ve earned the right to my baggage…"

  
His face did bear the mark of his tears. I raised my chin. “No one will ever hurt me like that again.”

  
"Oh, darling, you’re right. No one will…" Tom closed the distance between us and covered my mouth with his, cradling the back of my head with his hand. His lips were a balm to me, and I allowed my tears to coat both of out faces as he slanted his mouth against mine in an agonizingly slow kiss that pulled my very last resistance from me.

  
He pulled back and searched my face, swiping my tears away with his thumb. He placed a tender kiss first on my forehead, then on each eyelid, before holding me at arms length to look into my eyes.”You know it would be impossible for me to treat you like that. Counter to every impulse I have, do you know that?”

  
I nodded, unable to speak from the pent up emotions coursing through me. They were no longer clogging my throat, they were flowing and at last I could finally breathe.

  
"So," Tom said, "I’m going to say the thing I’ve been wanting to say, alright?"

  
I nodded again, eyes closed, lips shaking.

  
"I love you."

  
I began crying with a fresh crop of tears. I reached for him, “Oh, Tom. I love you, too.”

  
His face was beautiful. He smiled incredulously, his eyes watering, his lip quivering. “You do?”

  
"Of course I fucking do."

  
He pulled me tight to him and kissed me again, and I opened up to him, my tongue slipping against his. His hand tangled in my hair, the other wrapped possesively at my waist. He broke the kiss with a huge grin.

  
"Do you have plans for the rest of the day?" he asked.

  
"I was planning on sitting by the window and crying."

  
"Cancel the plans. I’m taking you to bed."

  
"I feel like maybe a shower is in order. You were right, I do look terrible."

  
He chewed his lower lip and drew his thumb across my jawline. “In complete and utter honesty, you have never looked more beautiful than you do right now.”

  
"Seriously? You want to fuck right now?"

  
He shook his head. “I want to make slow, toe-curling love to you right now. Then a shower. Then I will fuck you until you can’t stand. Then probably dinner. Then we fuck again.”

  
“I get the point.”

  
Tom scooped me up in his arms, causing me to squeal in surprise and carried me into my bedroom. He placed me gently on the bed and immediately set to work, leaning over me, his mouth on mine, his hands untying my robe.

  
"I can’t believe I haven’t seen you naked for three days. It’s a lifetime." He pushed my robe off my shoulders and stopped, fingering my necklace, "What’s this?"

  
"Your heart, Tom. Next to mine, where it belongs. I’ve been wearing it since that last evening."

  
He picked up the makeshift pendant and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the skin beneath. “That night. You knew? You felt…”

  
"I was going to tell you. I tried to. I wanted to tell you all that day, I just couldn’t find the right way to…"

  
"Darling I’m so sorry."

  
I put my finger to his lips. “Shh. It’s okay. You had no idea.”

  
HIs brow was still furrowed, the realization that all of this could have been avoided if he hadn’t stonewalled me that night hitting him hard.

  
"You can start making it up to me anytime now." I teased, trying to lighten his mood.

  
His smiled slowly returned, and his kisses resumed, starting at my neck. He was unhurried, his tongue sneaking out with every nip and peck, teasing me, tasting me. His teeth gently worried my earlobe, causing me to arch my back and press against him.

  
"God, I’ve missed you being under me," he brushed my hair back from my face and looked deeply at my face before kissing me on the mouth again, this time adding a little more heat.

  
My bare legs twisted around him, trying to bring his body as close as possible, writhing beneath him. I started on his shirt buttons, then once finished, I brought my palms across his chest, tracing the planes of tight muscle with my fingers, before pushing the shirt back over his shoulders. Tom yanked it off his arms and tossed it on the floor, leaving him in just his trousers.

  
He dipped his head to pay tribute to my breasts, tracing the lower curve of each of them with his tongue. Capturing a pink nipple in his mouth, he hummed in appreciation, cupping my other breast and kneading it. I brought my arms around him, my hands greedily sliding over his back, trying to bring him closer, trying to feel as much of him as I could at once. My hands tugged at the closure of his pants, unfastening them. I pulled them below his hips. He kicked them down the rest of the way and toed off his shoes.

  
Tom blazed a trail down my belly with his pointed tongue, grazing my navel with his teeth. He looked up at me, his chin brushing my sex, “Open for me, love.”

  
Oh, he took his time. He traced my plump outer lips with his tongue before oh-so-gently grabbing one between his teeth and pulling, not biting, just pulling. I opened my legs wider, pressing my wet, pink center up to him.

  
He laughed quietly, “You’ve missed me, I see.”

  
"Yes. Please. I need your mouth on me."

  
Tom wrapped his arms under my thighs, his hands grabbing my hips as he kissed my slit as he would kiss my mouth, his lips playing over it, his tongue sliding inside, tasting and drawing me out. He raised his head to my clit drawing lazy circles around it with his tongue, mimicking the motion with his fingers at my opening. I tried to grind into his face, to get the direct stimulation I craved, he pulled back, insisting I feel each slow flick, each breath.

  
My back arched off the bed. Seeing this, he put one large flat hand on my lower belly, holding me to the mattress, and adding pressure on my abdomen, he thrust two fingers into my seeping slit and pressed harder with his upper hand, pushing my g-spot against his skilled digits.

  
He covered my bud with his mouth, and began to alternate licking and suckling. Drawing my sensitized clit between his lips he moved his warm tongue against it skillfully from every angle, brushing it upward. Each time my clit would retract as I neared my release, he would suckle at it again, making the little thing stand at attention, bringing me relentlessly higher. Over and over he repeated the process. I was flushed, incoherent, sweat on my brow and dripping down from the crease of my knees.

  
He stayed there, stayed with me as I ascended, moving his fingers against the delicate ridges with leisure, watching me, his enjoyment evident by his labored breathing and hungry grunts as he devoured me.

  
At last it was all too much, and I fell - no plummeted - convulsing violently against his face. Tom pressed his face against me, holding me tight, moaning into my orgasm. As I came to rest, he slowed his ministrations and crawled over me, wiping his glistening chin with his hand.

  
For my part, I stared at the ceiling. “Fuck. That was unspeakably amazing.”

  
"Do you need a minute?" He whispered.

  
I kissed him, feeling the my dampness in his stubble, tasting the saline muskiness of my release on his lips. “No.”

  
He rolled his hips against me. “Good.”

  
Tom sat up in bed cross-legged, pulling me with him, onto his lap.  
With his hands slowly guiding my hips, I lowered myself onto his engorged cock. Tom hissed through his teeth as I moaned low in my throat, my head lolling back.

  
“I want you wrapped around me. Every part of you,” he murmured, his head between my breasts, his tongue lapping at the salty skin.

  
I twined my legs around his waist, my arms draped over his shoulders. Rocking against his cock, I rubbed my clit against his pubic bone. His hands went to my ass, kneading my cheeks, aiding me in my movements.

  
"Oh, God, you feel amazing," he gritted, "so tight like this."

  
One hand moved to my breast, lifting it to his mouth. He grazed his teeth against it before sucking at my nipple. I extended my arms, my fingers twisted together behind his neck. I leaned back, stretching out my torso. Tom’s eyes dropped to where we were joined, his jaw open and set, watching me grind against him. He was fully seated inside me.

  
His hands went to my hips. He grabbed me there, and pulled me in a back and forth motion against him keeping his eye on the place where we were pressed tightly together. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, love. You are so good. Fuck.”

I was close again. “Harder, Tom.”

  
He grunted then lifted me off. “On your belly. Please, darling.”

  
I tilted my ass up to him. He slid his hand down one side of my body before covering me and pulling me to the edge of the bed, rose to enter me from behind. He moved within me, holding my hips. I arched into him, meeting him trust for thrust. I felt my release unraveling in my core.

  
"Push harder, Tom. I’m cumming."

  
He growled and thrust into me at a punishing pace, his fingers digging into my hips, his hard cock filling me over and over until I my orgasm overtook me in a long, wet wave. With that he met his release, moaning long and low as he spilled into me, his cock pulsing.

  
We stayed joined for a few moments, and when Tom rolled off of me onto his back, for the first time I didn’t stiffen as he reached for me. I curled against the nook between his neck and shoulder -my place- and felt no reservations about belonging there.

  
*

  
_Eighteen Months Later_

  
"Darling. We are going to be late, and at this point, you’re just gilding the lily."

  
I stepped out of the bathroom, “What do you think?”

  
Tom eyed me in my newest favorite dress. “You look stunning. Suddenly date night seems unnecessary. Maybe we could stay home. Do something fun. Like play strip poker.”

  
"Classy."

  
"Strip Chess, then."  
I laughed. “After dinner, you can strip all of this off.” I ran my hands down the curve of my bust and over my hips, his eyes followed with keen interest, “and I won’t even make you work for it.”

  
"Lucky me," he said as I walked past him, grabbing my clutch.

  
I looked over my shoulder at him, “Too hard, that is.”

  
I had moved into Tom’s flat six months after the afternoon we had, at long last, confessed out mutual love. Life together was at times blissful, at times challenging, especially when I had to fight my ingrained urges to run. But Tom always chased after me and then waited for me. He gave me grace to return. I wouldn’t have traded the shared vulnerability for anything. What we had was real. _Healthy._

  
Tom opened the car door for me and I joined me in his Jaguar in moments. He smiled boyishly. “I have something really special planned for tonight. Are you up to it?”

  
"Do your worst, love," I teased.

  
He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it, then put the car in gear as we drove into the night.

  
He pulled up outside my old apartment building. “Ah, we’re here.”

  
"This is my old place." I said stupidly.

  
"Yes." he got out of the car and opened my door for me. I took his extended hand and followed him into the building. We rode the elevator to my old floor with Tom bouncing excitedly on his feet.

  
I gave him a suspicious side-eye. “What are you up to?”

  
"You’ll see."

  
The elevator door opened and he took my hand. “Do you know what tonight is?”

  
"The night you’re asking me to move back into my flat?" I asked as we arrived at my old door.

  
"No. It is exactly twenty-one months and seventeen days since that first night."

  
I smiled.

  
Tom unlocked the door. The apartment had long since been emptied.

Tom flicked the light switch. In the middle of my old living room was that sofa where we had spent so much time together. He’d had it brought from storage.

  
He pulled me in by both hands, to my old assigned seat. “You were sitting here,” he said, “and I was here.” He sat on the opposite end.

  
"You were wearing little red shorts, as I recall," he mused, watching me, "just being around you made me crazy. Not to mention.."

  
"What?" I prodded.

  
"Hard."

  
I smiled and bit my lip. “I seem to remember someone teasing me by doing the sexiest set of pushups I had ever seen.”

  
"I did, didn’t I? Then I asked you to sit on my lap." He reached for me and pulled me to him. I settled on him, straddling his thighs.

  
"I was so nervous and turned on," I confessed.

  
"That’s because you had forgotten your knickers."

  
I giggled quietly.

  
"Then I touched you. I mean, really touched you, for the first time. It was heaven," his slid his hands over my thighs.

  
I purred and ran my hands up his chest, toying with his tie.

  
"Darling," he whispered, "Truth or Dare."

  
"Mmm… truth."

  
"Are you happy?"

  
"Excruiciatingly so," I smiled.

  
He grinned, “Truth or Dare.”

  
I raised an eyebrow, “Truth.”

  
"Do you love me?"

  
"Desperately."

  
I leaned into kiss him, sliding against his erection.

  
He broke the kiss. Our faces were inches apart.

  
"Truth or Dare. Pick dare."

  
He still knows me so well.

  
"Dare."

  
"Reach into my breast pocket."

  
I crinkled my brow, smiling and reached in. My hand met a small box. I pulled it out.

  
"Tom.." I opened the box revealing a platinum band that was set with a single sparkling diamond.

  
He began to speak rapidly. “I love you so much. I just want to make you happy and I know I am asking you to take the biggest risk yet by marrying me, but we are so good together. When I get up in the morning, you’re the first….”

  
I put my free hand to his mouth. “Just. Fucking. Stop, Tom. My answer is yes.”

  
"Yes?" he spoke, muffled from behind my palm.

  
I nodded, leaning into kiss him.

  
He slid the ring on my finger and held me, celebrating our new commitment with a sweet, yet passionate kiss. His hands moved up my thighs and over my bare hips.

  
He stopped. “You’re not. Fuck. Again?”

  
I nodded.

  
"You just happened to have forgotten your knickers, haven’t you? Just to torture me," he pouted.

  
I fisted my hand in his curls, pulling his mouth close to mine, “Oh, darling. I wouldn’t say forgotten…”


End file.
